Of Rats and Men
by otahotian
Summary: An Another Universe story from college, whereas John has serious anger problems and killer organisation on his heels; Sherlock is an annoying jerk; Greg solves everyone's problems before dinner and Jim is just as delightfully insane as usual. But is that all?
1. Clue in a Library

**Title: Of Rats and Men**

**Chapter: Clue in the Library**

**Characters: John Watson; Sherlock Holmes; Jim Moriarty**

**Place: University - namely John's and Sherlock's shared dorm and the library**

**Mood: Teasing; Taunting; Annoyed**

**Warnings: See the bottom of the page**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

John opened the door to his room, sighing and lugging a bag of books over his bag. He never expected college to be so hard. Where were all the fun parties and crazy antics that had been promised to him upon arrival? He stepped into dorm 221-B and shut the door, turning on the light before heading over to his bed. He collapsed down with an audible sigh. He had a crap tonne of homework to do and none of it easy. John sat up and rubbed his head, opening up his laptop.

Sherlock startled when he heard the door shut, quite surprised his dormmate was back already. What happened to his usual rugby training? He shrugged, deciding that he didn't care enough to actually ask, and stepped out of the bathroom, towel around his hips and drying his hair with other. He pointedly ignored the older student, moving to rummage trough his clothes.

He peered over the top of his laptop. Of course. Sherlock wouldn't of had the decencey to change in the bathroom. John rolled his eyes, getting back to his research online and checking the time. Somehow he had to manage getting to his date on time and finishing up at least half his homework. After he sprained his ankle in his last rugby match, John had more time than usual to get his work done, grudgingly.

Sherlock changed into his trousers and long grey shirt, that was way too large for him, sitting cross-legged onto his bed. He watched the older for a moment, thinking that maybe he could annoy him just to have something to do. And it was always nice, riling the male up, not even talking about the fact that he could have all of his attention, if only for a moment. Without saying anything, though, he kept on staring on Watson, smirking when he wondered how long would it take him to notice.

After a while of typing, John started to feel a bit uneasy. He stole a glance at the other boy. Oh great, he was staring. He wasn't doing that bloody annoying thing was he? Why couldn't he just leave him alone? "Got a problem, Holmes?" He called, his attention returned to his blog.

"Yes." Sherlock grinned, though he hid it with his hand. He felt almost giddy, deciding not to look away. His eyes flicked down at the laptop on Watson's lap - so he was either chatting, doing school work, or playing with his blog. He wasn't smiling in that stupid way of his, so it wasn't chatting. Since he wasn't concentrated enough, it was the blog.

"Then what is it?" He didn't bother to look up at the younger man, though there was obvious annoyance in his voice. He continued to type, his fingers hitting the keys a little harder than before.

Sherlock's smirk only widened. "None of your business." he sang irritably, staring still. He shuffled to raise his knees against his chest, leaning onto them.

"Well obviously it is, since you're staring at me. What have you got a problem with me?" He slammed the laptop's screen down, glaring at the boy. He had been trying to control his anger issues but Sherlock was pushing it. He had had an immensely stressful day and this wasn't helping.

He blinked innocently up at him. "Not a problem with you, just finishing up an experiment." he grinned softly. He noticed Watson's hands form into fists, obviously angry. That was fun. Just a little more, and the older would either try to punch him, or scream and leave. Both would be quite fun, though he wouldn't really like him leaving.

"Then why the hell are you looking at me? If you're going to look at something for the sake of looking, look anywhere else! You're making me incredibly uncomfortable!" He stood up, storming off ingo the small excuse for a kitchen and put water in the kettle, boiling it. A cup of tea would calm him down.

Sherlock leaned sideways to be able to watch the older even though he was in another room. "I told you I am finishing up an experiment." he smirked at him rather evilly, tapping his chin with his finger.

"And I'm guessing this 'experiment' is none of my business as well?" He inquired bitterly, getting the milk out of the fridge. "A scientific or social experiment?"

"Partly both." he informed him. "And it _is_ your business, actually, since you are the subject." he lied with a smirk, moving to lay sprawled over his bed with his head hanging from the edge, still staring.

"_I'm_ the subject? Then what the hell is this experiment? You haven't drugged the milk have you?" He remarked, pouring the water into the cup and stirring it. "Did you want one?" He was getting more and more annoyed at the man's childish behaviour.

"Of course I don't want one." Sherlock rolled his eyes, which was quite a feat since he was upside-down, "And I put aphrodisiacs into the tea you drank about three hours ago." he lied again, watching for any signs of anger or horror coming from the other.

John froze. "A-aphrodisiacs?" He glared at him. "Why the hell did you do that?! You bloody git! I'm sure that's agains the law or something?" He threw the teaspoon into the sink angrily and marched back into the room, glowering at Sherlock.

"I was curious what would happen." he lied, amused. It looked as if he succeeded in making the older furious, that was fun. And he probably wouldn't leave since he would be scared the drugs would do something to him. That was even _more_ fun. "But you aren't showing any signs yet. That's curious."

"I-i-i.." He was completely lost for words at the man's obvious lack of care. "You can't just do that, Holmes! For fuck's sake.." He rubbed his head, frustrated and quite frankly horrified at any effects that would come to light. "I've got a date later for Christ's sake!"

"Well, good for you then." Sherlock grinned. "It might even be helpful." he taunted, making show of making himself comfortable. He stared up at the older male, wondering if he would really punch him this time, or just shout.

John really couldn't take this any more, he leapt for Sherlock, straddling him and punched him in the jaw. "You complete and utter arse-face!" He shouted at the younger, so tempted to strangle him. He grabbed Sherlock's face and bashed it against the headboard. "You dickhead!"

Sherlock gasped for breath as he god winded, but soon started laughing madly, pressing his feet into John's stomach and throwing him over his head and onto the floor. He sat up, looking down at him amused, while rubbing his hurting head. He noticed a bit of blood on the spot where John slammed him against the wood, and grinned.

John got up again, glaring at him. "What the hell is your problem you freak? I can see why you have no bloody friends when all you do is treat people like shit! Like you're oh so above them! You're just like your douchebag of a brother!" He went to go punch him again but he had lost all spark in him to do so. He just glared irate at him and returned to his tea.

Sherlock felt irritation get a hold of him and moved up, frowning fiercely at the older. "I am nothing like my brother." he whispered furiously, but loud enough for Watson to hear him. "You never talked to him, I am nothing like _him_."

"Oh really? Could have fooled me! I might not have talked to him but I've seen him around campus. He's a complete douchebag! Just like you apparently!" He sipped his tea, glaring at him still.

The younger looked down, blinking down tears from his eyes. He quickly stood up, walking out of the dorm still barefoot, turning around only when he was in the doorway. "I lied. About the drugs I mean." he admitted, closing the door silently behind himself. Library then, since he couldn't go out without his shoes.

He shook his head in annoyance, really not caring for the other. "Good! Clear off! No one wants you here anyways you prick" He yelled after him, finishing his tea. A small voice at the back of John's head was telling him to feel guilty, but his anger drowned it out as he returned to his laptop.

* * *

About twenty minutes later, Sherlock was browsing the isles of library. There was almost no one there, leaving the place quiet and calm. Too bad he couldn't concentrate, feeling dizzy. He thought that maybe he should have taken a look at the wound on his head, but just shrugged it off. Wondering how long would it take for John to leave on his date, he flicked trough a book about bees, he haven't read yet.

A boy, looking at Sherlock from one bookcase opposite him smiled shyly, "Your head doesn't look too good.." He pulled the books away to get a better look at the other, he blinked slowly behind his glasses.

"You aren't so hot either." Sherlock snapped back, moving away. Honestly, could no one read any more? Or was the sign 'Silence in the library' invisible? He snapped the book shut, moving towards the librarian to borrow it.

The boy followed him, smiling awkwardly, clutching a book in his arms with a nervous laugh. "I guess not... Umm.. Are you going to be ok? I couldn't help but notice you looked a wee bit angry.."

"No one can help me." he muttered, quite aware that he was being over-dramatic and broody, but he just didn't care. Why did the boy even care? They didn't even know each other. He gave a soft smile towards the librarian - she was dull, but smart - and signed that yes, he agreed to the terms of borrowing the book.

"Are you sure.. I err... I could help? Maybe? " The boy smiled almost desperately, his eyes looking at Sherlock in wonder. "I... I've been watching you for a while." He blushed slightly.

Sherlock turned around in surprise. "Why?" he blurted out, blinking up at the boy, as if he was some weird creature never seen. "And really, no one can help me." he repeated again, surprising himself by actually smiling this time.

He smiled more at Sherlock's smile, blushing more and running a hand through his short, black hair. "I.. uh.. You're really interesting? Uhh and yeah.. I've seen you around campus alot. We're in some of the same classes. But uh.. no one would really notice me. Not that I mind." His stance was slightly awkward and unconfident, holding the book close to him.

"Are you smart?" Sherlock leaned closer to him, trying to read the title of the book. He wasn't successful, though. "We could be friends." he offered with a shrug, feeling a bit awkward himself, since he never had a friend before.

"R-really?" His smile brightened and his eyes opening in slight disbelief. "I uhh.. I'm not sure.. I'm not as smart as you though, you correcting the teachers and stuff." He let out a slight giggle.

Sherlock shrugged, raising his hand and offering it for a shake. "I am Sherlock." he said with a small smile. Maybe he finally met someone who didn't think him 'freak'. That would be nice.

"I.. I know." He laughed gently, lending a very shakey hand to the handshake, which was weak on his half. "It's really really great to meet you! I'm Jim."

"So what are you reading?" Sherlock asked as an afterthought, rubbing his hand over his bruised jaw.

"Norton Anthology of English literature.. kinda boring I think but uhh.. I've read quite a few of these books already. " He smiled, looking over, concerned. "Are you ok..? Your jaw looks really sore. Did you get into a fight? Bet you won." He giggled again lightly.

"So you study literature? It's sounds a bit boring.." he shrugged, not meaning it as an insult, only an observation. "I just angered my dormmate." he felt himself smiling, previous bitter anger at being called 'like his brother' leaving him. "And he is quite.. strong."

"Yes.. I do.. I uhh.. It can be a bit boring but Mam's making me do it." He reshifted himself, holding the heavy book still. "Oh.. I can imagine he could be quite strong. Looks like an awful bruise. Might be there for a while."

Sherlock smirked, finding the conversation quite amusing. "I will go now, need to get a look at the gash." he gesticulated towards the back of his head, hoping that his dormmate was already away. "We will meet." he nodded towards Jim as a goodbye.

"You sure you don't want me to come with you..?" He asked hopefully, then nodded as it was obvious it was a no. "Ok.. Thank you." He smiled brightly, "I'll look forwards to it. Oh! Can I have your number..?" He placed the book on the librarian's desk to be checked out

Sherlock shrugged halfway out of the library, and called his number at him, thinking that if Jim wanted it, he would have to remember. He quickly jogged towards his dorm, since he was barefoot and the floor was _cold_.

Jim leaned back against the counter coolly, all previous look of shyness and awkwardness gone as he rolled his eyes, smirking. He added Sherlock's number to his phone and pulled out a piece of gum from his pocket, popping it in his mouth before taking the book without a single glance at the librarian.

* * *

**Very well. This is a story co-written by two people. One is obviously me. The second (or probably the first, who knows) is CheshireCheeseNate. **

**That's important.**

**Another important thing is that this was created as a Role Played story, so you can notice every paragraph is from different angle, different person. It might be a bit confusing, but for the sake of authenticity of the story, there is nothing we could (or would want) to do about it.**

**Another thing is that neither of us is perfect in English, so if you spot any mistake trough the story, that hurts your eyes, don't hesitate and leave a message. I will see to correct it.**

**In the story, there will of course appear loads of references. I will try to explain those that are not explained as a part of the story, but if I miss anyone, don't hesitate to ask.**

**One more thing - probably - since we both have our share of characters, I am starting a game. If anyone can write me - or CheshireCheeseNate - a message where is a list with all the characters in here (of course only from those chapters that are posted up to the day you sent it) correctly matched with their RP'er, the person will be a winner. I don't know what will the person win, but I guess you can add that into the message, right? :) Just something that is possible, please.**

**That should be all. Possibly.**

**Smile - because that makes people very confused.**


	2. Piece Offerings

**Title: Of Rats and Men**

**Chapter: Piece Offerings**

**Characters: John Watson; Sherlock Holmes**

**Place: Inside and Outside of the University**

**Mood: Unlucky; Lost; Kind**

**Warnings: Just imagine a warning against anything that could offend you.**

**Enjoy :)**

* * *

Sherlock briefly stopped in front of the door to their dorm when he returned, thinking that maybe he should knock. He shrugged, since it was his dorm just as it was Watson's, and entered, looking around to see if the older was in.

John was sat on his bed, scribbling down his homework, not even looking up as Sherlock walked back in. He had showered in the time Sherlock had gone and was just in his college hoodie and jeans.

Poking his head into the room, Sherlock sighed noticing Watson still there. That made things a bit more difficult. He threw his cell onto his bed, retreating into the bathroom, shutting the door behind himself. He hesitated for a second, before looking into the mirror. He had to wince, his jaw was getting the right blue-yellow colour and one of his eyes had dark circle beneath from the circulation shock. He tried looking onto the back of his head trough the mirror, but failed, so he just stuck his head into a stream of cold water to get rid of the blood.

"I see you're back then. Funny. I thought you would have gotten the hint." John remarked, writing notes still.

Sherlock decided not to comment, instead he carefully rubbed his hair dry, biting onto his lower lip to stop himself from cursing every time he touched the wound. If Watson thought he was like his brother, there was no need in talking to him, he closed his eyes with a sigh, and made to lay on his bed, facing the wall.

"Sulking now, I see? Interesting." He stole a glance from his work, frowning at Sherlock's head. "I'm sorry. Ok? Things got a bit out a hand and I'm sorry."

Sherlock decidedly ignored him again, pressing his palms into his eyes, trying to stop the throbbing in his head. It was bloody irritating. Noticing something poking into his side, he moved a bit closer to the wall, identifying the thing as his phone. He stashed it beneath his pillow and rested his forehead against the cold wall.

"Look. I'll get the first aid kit. I'm sorry. Just sit upright." He headed to the kitchen, wincing at his sprained ankle and picking up the box, placing it on his bed.

Sherlock hissed angrily and moved to throw his blanket over himself, curling around his knees. He hid his head under his pillow, quite comfortable with ignoring the older.

"Don't hiss at me like some bloody cat!" He frowned. Was he even worth trying? "I just want to rectify things!"

"Piss off, I am sleeping." he snapped, not moving a finger. He absently wondered how long till the older _finally_ leaves, so he can get back to being miserable.

"Fine! If that's how you want it. So be it!" He put on his shoes and his coat. "I've got a date anyways." John stormed out of 221-B, slamming the door behind him.

Sherlock sighed in relief, touching his head again, noticing the new blood gracing his hair. He crawled out of the bed and into the bathroom, sticking his head beneath stream of cold water again. It should help. And if not, well. Too bloody bad.

John stormed onto the courtyard, hands in his pocket. All he wanted to do was help. But no, Sherlock had to go and be a little brat about it again. He apologised hadn't he? It was Sherlock who had agitated and provoked him. Aphrodisiacs? What the hell was he playing at? He'd have to watch his tea from now on.

* * *

Quite a while past the time John was expected to meet his date, he gave a sigh. He had been stood up. Great. Just what he needed. He didn't necessarily want to head back to his dorm but he had little other choice. John walked back, not knocking and slumped onto his bed, facedown.

"What are you doing back here?" Sherlock froze in the doorway, his reddened – previously white - towel pressed into his hair. He stared at the older as if he was a ghost, feeling awkward and not only a bit disappointed, that he got _surprised_. By his dormmate, no less.

"None of your business." He put the pillow over his head, sighing and trying to drown the other. The second time this week he had been stood up. Why did every woman seem to hate him?

Sherlock watched him for a moment, noticing the depressed position. "You have been stood up." he declared, watching his slumped back, since Watson obviously refused to face him.

"No shit, Sherlock." He sighed, refusing to look at him, feeling humiliated. "Just.. leave me alone.." John's voice was low and quiter than usual, almost in defeat.

"You shouldn't be depressed over a _woman_." Sherlock rolled his eyes, but moved to sit on his bed. "You never have problem getting a date, so.." he trailed off with a shrug.

"This is the second time this week I've been stood up. Don't you know how embarrasing that is?" His voice was agitated but weak.

"Actually - no." Sherlock snorted, laying flat on his back onto the bed. He absently ran his hand over his jaw, wondering if he was turning into a masochist, since he kept on taunting his obviously violent roommate. Not now, actually. Now he was only amused by his depressed state. Over a _woman_. How pathetic was that.

"You're into dudes though, aren't you? That's what everyone says anyways." He didn't move but his voice was more curious than depressed.

Sherlock shrugged. "Who knows.. I don't date." why should he anyway? It was a waste of time, he had never have problems with getting himself a 'companion', so why should he bother with _dating_?

John didn't reply and just curled up under his sheets, head buried under them too.

"Trying to suffocate yourself, now? Shouldn't you - as a medicine student - know that it's dangerous to your life?" he raised his eyebrows, moving to lay on his side to be able to watch his dormmate.

"I'm not suffocating myself." He snapped back, just wanting to block him and his stupid cheekbones out.

"Well what are you trying to do than?" he leaned closer in curiosity.

"I don't bloody know!" He replied, slightly agitated but tried to calm down.

"Even I know, Watson, that if you ask someone a question, you are not supposed to ignore his answer." he pointed out with a small grin.

"I answered it, didn't I?" He pulled the covers away, looking at the other.

"_You_ were the one asking a question and _I_ actually bothered to answer it, yet, you never commented." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Are you _sure_, you aren't the one with a head injury?"

"What question? The one about you dating or not dating guys?" He rubbed his head, slightly annoyed at him roomate's behaviour.

"And _you_ are always complaining about my manners." Sherlock muttered, turning onto his stomach, so that he could inspect the towel. By the fact that the red spot was slowly spreading, he guessed the gash was still bleeding. He shouldn't have washed the dried blood off. Shrugging, Sherlock pressed the towel back on.

"Would you just bloody speak so I can understand you? What question are you badgering on about?"

"Forget it, it's not important." he shrugged, sighing into his own pillow, mirroring John's previous position. He absently wondered if his new friend was to write him, quite curious about him. There was something a bit off about him.

"It obviously is if you're so desperate to pursue it, Sherlock!" He frowned over at the other. The sudden silence was broken by Sherlock's text tone, a new message from an unknown number.

**Hey there Sherlock. It's me, Jim. From the library? Do you remember me? JM**

Sherlock grinned. New connundrum for him, how nice. He flicked the number to safe under basically 'Jim', remembering it along the way.

**No I don't. What was the book you were getting anyway? -SH** he sent back with a small smile, before turning back towards his dormmate. "I was just trying to rile you up." he shrugged. "No need to take me seriously."

**You don't.. remember me? Oh haha I get it. Norton Anthology of English Literature. -JM**

"Well I don't appriciate being 'riled up' ok? Why can't you just get on with me like a normal roomate?" He sighed, retreating back under his sheets.

"Because you are irritating." Sherlock sent him a grin, quite surprised himself by being actually honest. Well almost. The 'and way too hot for your and mine own good' he kept to himself, not really wanting to get punched again.

He looked down at the phone, reading the message and deciding it didn't really need an answer. There honestly was something weird about Jim, and not only that he liked him. All the more reason to get to know him, though.

"And you're not?" He retorted, rolling his eyes although his dormmate would not be able to see.

**So.. What are you up to? :) -JM**

"Of course I am. But I actually _know_ it." Sherlock threw back at him absently, tapping his fingers onto the screen of his cell, sending a message back.

**Riling up my dormmate. He is fun. :) Are you welsh, Jim? You have welsh accent.. -SH**

**Just don't get punched this time! :P My accent is Irish, Sherlock. I'm from Dublin. JM**

"Then why don't you do something to change that? You've irratated me enough." He responded with a sigh.

**Oh, so I was wrong. How interesting. -SH** Sherlock grinned. He didn't mind being wrong, but since Jim's accent was pure (obviously) Scottish, even though he was supposed to be studying his second year here - just as Sherlock - his accent should be a bit weaker. One suspicious thing. That was good. It was fun, Jim was fun.

Just with difficulties, Sherlock turned back towards his dormmate. "I don't care about people enough to stop being _myself_." he shrugged.

"Fine. Whatever. I don't really care anymore Sherlock." He closed his eyes, refusing to speak to the other male for the rest of the night.

**Wow! That's not like you! :O Are you sure ur head is ok? Do I sound Welsh..? I thought I sounded pretty Irish to me. Wouldn't wanna be mistaken for a welshman. JM**

**Welshmen are ****cool****. I just got it mixed, my head is fine. -SH** He grinned again, curling on his bed again. He sent a last look towards his dormmate, shrugging as he noticed that their conversation was obviously over. He flicked his phone on silent, not to bother him. There was no need for that, was there, since he didn't really _need_ his attention now.

**So that's your type? Haha. I'm glad your head is ok. I'm looking forwards to our next meeting :) JM.**

Jim sent the text although Sherlock had switched his phone off. He smiled to himself, sat on the top of the gym roof, looking up at the stars. Things would be getting interesting very soon.

Moving the cell back beneath his pillow, he trusted the alarm to ring even though the device was switched off - not that he needed it, he would be awake much sooner anyway, plagued by nightmares just per usual. With a sigh Sherlock laid on his side on top of the covers, watching the wall as if it was the most fascinating thing ever.

John soon fell asleep, his position slacking and less tense. He had a dreamless sleep, and a rather uncomfortable one with a lot of shifting and moving.

* * *

Sherlock gave up trying to sleep at about 2 am, deciding the throbbing in his head was not getting any better. He crawled off his bed, swaying a bit, and shuffled to shake the older awake. "Watson." he poked his side, hoping his dormmate wasn't very violent when woken up.

John groaned slightly, opening his eyes. "..What is it..?" He sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Am I late for lecture..?"

"No. I need you to check my head." Sherlock leaned over him, not caring a bit about his personal space, and shook his shoulders again.

He opened his eyes fully, seeing Sherlock over him and stared up at him for a couple of seconds. Those cheekbones. Damn. "Fine fine. I am sorry about earlier." He got out of bed and opened the first aid kit, turning the light on.

"Just check, leave that.. _thing_ away." he pointed towards Watson's first aid kit, sliding to sit on the floor, his back towards the older. He moved his hair away from the gash. "Does it need stitches?"

John headed back over to look at the back of his head carefully, the blood still there. "Yeah, that's gonna need stitches.. I really am sorry."

Sherlock nodded, completely ignoring the apology just as before. He had been asking for it, hadn't he. Also, he wasn't angry at John about _that_, no. It was the comment about his brother that made him a bit bitter. He stood up, fishing from beneath his bad the curved needle and thread, disappearing back into the bathroom.

"Sher..Sherlock? You're not really going to stitch your own head are you? Let me help." He followed in after him, frowning.

"No." Sherlock growled, quite alarmed about the prospect of having someone - _anyone_ - touch him without him being able to move away any moment he wanted to, and kicked the bathroom door shut just before the older could enter. He quickly turned it locked, switching the lights on.

He pounded a single fist against the door, fed up with him. "Fine.. do what you want Sherlock.." John's voice was more of a sigh and he slumped back to bed, drownin himself in sheets.

"Just as I always do.." Sherlock murmured to himself, moving to sit on top of the toilet seat, since he wouldn't be able to see anything even if he was facing the mirror. He quickly swallowed three pills of painkillers, counting towards two hundreds, before he was sure they were working. It took him about twenty minutes to stitch himself quite satisfactory, moving out of the bathroom back onto his bed, sleepy from the pills.

He sat up as Sherlock renentered the room. "Sherlock, are you ok..?" There was actual concern in his voice, to his surpise.

Sherlock froze for a moment at the tone, blinking back at the older student. "Yes, yes I am." he answered quite honestly, trying to make out the silhouette of Watson in the darkness.

"Are you sure..? Your gash was really bad." He sighed. "Look, I'm sorry about what I said, ok? I didn't mean it. Can.. can we start again? I'm really sorry."

Sherlock was quite aware he was openly gaping by now, awkwardly stood in the middle of the room. "..What?" he asked, feeling completely lost and confused.

"I.. I want us to start again. I really think we've gotten off on the wrong foot and.. well.. I want to change that. If it's alright with you. I just am really fed up with this bad blood between us." He was being purely honest here, John turned on the lamp to look at the man stood there.

Sherlock nodded weakly, feeling a bit dizzy. He wasn't sure if it was because of the injury, or because of the offer, but quite honestly he didn't care. He nodded again, closing his mouth to stop himself from looking like a fish.

"That's..Thank you." He smiled weakly, with a nod. "Well.. then.. goodnight. I suppose." John felt rather odd, getting back into bed.

"Good night." Sherlock repeated mechanically, staring at the man for few more minutes. He shook his head when it looked as if he wouldn't get any answers, and shuffled into his own bed, falling asleep the moment his head touched the pillow.

* * *

**Let's meet tomorrow then.**


	3. Hot Heads Cold Calls

**Title: Of Rats and Men**

**Chapter: Hot Heads; Cold Calls**

**Characters: John Watson; Sherlock Holmes**

**Place: Inside and Outside of the University**

**Mood: Confused; Eager; Curious **

**Warnings: None.**

**Enjoy :)**

* * *

The next morning, John awoke to his phone ringing. He reached over to it groggily, pulling it to his ear, "Hello..?" he spoke sleepily, sitting up. The caller hung up immediately. "Bloody cold calls.." He sighed, rubbing his eyes and heading over to the bathroom.

Sherlock groggily forced himself to open his eyes, watching the retreating figure of his dormmate. "Who's tha'?" he muttered weakly, quite unable to talk any louder.

"No idea. They hung up. Probably some insurance company." He ran the sink, washing his face.

"Num'er?" Sherlock asked again, crawling against the wall to sit up. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and pinched the pressure point between his index finger and thumb, trying to get rid of his headache.

"Withheld." He called, drying his face. "You need some more paracetamol, Sherlock?"

"What'er is that - no." he muttered again, trying to remember what the hell had he done last night, to earn himself such a horrible ache.

"Paracetamol - painkillers. You sure? You don't sound well." He walked back in, drying his hair quickly with a towel.

"'m sure." Sherlock jerkily nodded, shielding his eyes from the bright light. He peered at the older, though, when he asked: "Wha' happe'd?"

"You don't remember? You stitched your own head up. Because of the gash." John stared at the other. "Are you sure you're ok...?"

"What gash?" he asked, smiling when he noticed he was able to talk without slurring, and reached his hand beneath his pillow, where he always kept his phone.

"The one after I smashed you head.. don't you remember?" He asked confused completely.  
(3 Messages)

Sherlock quickly flicked trough his sent messages and the ones he received yesterday. "Who's Jim?" he asked Watson, totally confused himself.

"I.. I don't know. Is he a friend of yours?" John walked over to him, "Why have you lost your memory.. did I hit you too hard...? I'm really sorry. Maybe you should go to the hospital.." He looked into Sherlock's eyes and analysed the rest of him quickly.

Sherlock rolled his eyes quickly. "No, I always loose few hours when I take the pills." he commented, flicking trough the rest of the messages. So a guy from Dublin, who he has met in library. Why did he have such cold feeling in his stomach? Something spooky was going on.

"Oh. Right. That's ok then." John regarded with a nod, looking at Sherlock curiously. "Is this Jim guy.. the one texting you?" At that point John's phone rang again and he picked up, "Hello..?" The person calling hung up again. John looked at his phone, frowing. Number withheld..

"Well obviously he _is _texting me.." Sherlock trailed off thoughtfully. "Met him yesterday in library." he shared what little information he had. "And I gave him my number." that was actually what made him so interesting, why would Sherlock give _anyone_ his number? Not even _Watson_, who was his dorm mate, got that from him.

"Maybe you fancied him a bit? I dunno." John shrugged, changing out of his vest and into his shirt and jumper for lessons. "What kinda things do the texts say?" Now even John was curious, he hadn't seen Sherlock so interested in someone before.

"Nothing much.." Sherlock answered. "And no, I don't think I fancy him. Or _fancied_ him." he shrugged. It wasn't like him to feel pulled towards someone based only on their appearance (Watson didn't count, of course) and the little information he had. Most probable was, that Jim searched _him_, which was a bit suspicious in itself.

"Can you remember what he looked like at all? His voice? Something distinctive about him that would make _you_ of all people want to text him?" John pulled on his socks and shoes, looking up at the other.

**Are you coming to class today? Or am I gonna be lonely? :) JM**

**Not today, not feeling well. -SH**

"Not really." Sherlock shrugged. "There is something.. _wrong_ about him, though." he felt himself grin. He had a feeling the other was _dangerous_, the feeling of cold and warmth in his guts, feeling of excitement and unending energy. It was brilliant, scary, overwhelming.

"You could call him...?" John tilted his head very slightly, "Wrong? Some guy you met? Maybe you should block his number then. Just in case." John looked at his watch. "Sorry, I gotta go to a lecture. You gonna be OK by yourself?"

**That's a shame! :( Want me to give you the notes on it after? So you don't fall behind? JM**

"_Wrong_ is _interesting_." he couldn't quite stop the gleeful smile from growing wide. "Watson - when are you going to be away in the afternoon?" he asked when he read the message. "You should have a training, if I am correct.."

"Rugby training yeah. Then after, football. So I should be gone roughly from 1pm till at least 5. Lecture goes on until 11. But I'm going out with a few mates for lunch, so I'll be gone pretty much all day. Why? You're not bringing him round are you? No funny business!" He stated clearly but couldn't help but smile a bit.

Sherlock nodded to himself, texting back.

**Come at 2pm, bring the notes? -SH** trusting the other male to get the information about their dorm himself. After all - _Sherlock_ wasn't that usual name, was it. Looking back up at the medicine student, he commented: "He is bringing me school notes." it was only an excuse, of course, since he already had all of the information he needed to even _finish_ his studies.

"Right. OK, I'll see you later then Holmes." John shoved his work into his bag before walking out briskly.

**Sure! No problem :) I'm looking forwards to it, Sherlock. JM**

Jim smiled at his phone, not bothering to go into the class. He had far more important things to do than sit back in a class he knew everything about. Moriarty had all the notes from today's lesson already, all written precisely to be expected from a student scribbling out notes. Why bother going into a lesson when Sherlock wouldn't be there? Now that would be incredibly boring. Jim sat on the roof, unnoticed and watched students pass, liking how puny and tiny they all seemed to him from above. He got a new piece of gum from his pocket and put it into his mouth, looking through the pictures he had managed to gain of Holmes. He couldn't wait for his game to start.

Sherlock laid onto his bad, deep in thoughts. He was looking forward meeting the man - again? - but he was a bit afraid as well. With a sigh he closed his eyes, setting his alarm onto 1:30, so he would be up and thinking when he got there. Before he could fall asleep, though, he sent his last two messages.

[to: Watson, John; 09:21] **Watson, John.. I know you are supposed to have a training, but if for some reason don't attend, please stay clear of the dorm between 2 and 4pm. -SH**

[to: Jim; 09:34] **I am, as well. -SH**

* * *

**Leave a message and bye till the morrow.**


	4. Encounters

**Title: Of Rats and Men**

**Chapter: Encounters**

**Characters: James Moriarty; Sherlock Holmes**

**Place: John's and Sherlock's dorm room**

**Mood: Shy, Playful, Shameless**

**Warnings: They 'get to know each other'. A lot.**

* * *

At 2:45, came the knock at the door. Jim, wearing his vest and his cardigan and his pale jeans stood outside eagerly yet nervously, biting his lip slightly. In his arms were the books and notes, clutched close to his chest like a school girl. He shuffled his feet, his battered trainers showing his obvious awkward stance. He didn't say anything, in case it came out stupid. He didn't want to mess up of course, how embarrassing would that be?! Jim blushed even at the thought of it.

John didn't reply to the text as his phone was in the changing room and he was already out on the field.

Sherlock laid down the book he had been pretending to read, still sprawled over Watson's bed. He clicked his cell off, throwing it over to his bed - surprisingly he didn't miss.  
"Come in." he called softly, making a show of sitting up as the other entered the room.

Jim opened the door and stepped in with a shy smile. "Afternoon there Sherlock, how's your head doing?" He closed the door softly and walked over with timid steps. Not quite believing he was actually in Sherlock's room!

Sherlock ran his eyes up and down the male, noting the few small details dubbing him as 'gay'. It was too obvious. "Come sit here." he urged him, patting the place on the bed next to him. Watson's bed. That actually made him flush a little, though he ignored it.

Sherlock's eyes had been analytical, if not slightly vacant. His pupils had been searching for recognition and the timbre of his voice sang clearly that he had forgotten Jim. Interesting. Jim smiled widely, quickly going over and sat in his allocated place, he put the books and papers on his lap, accidently dropping one. "Oops! Sorry!" He quickly got off the bed and down to his knees, picking it up off the floor. He smiled up at the other. "Sorry, I can be a wee bit clumsy sometimes." Jim got back up and sat on the bed, shuffling through the pieces of paper his notes were on. He looked to the man next to him and blushed again slightly. "Your roomate out?" He giggled gently, "Sorry, stupid question."

"He has a rugby training." he informed, his eyes boring into the other, noting the things that he was _supposed _to note and quickly dismissing them for those, that were hidden. He was sure that Jim was showing him nothing but a mask - disguise. And it was fun.  
Sherlock quickly grinned, looking the notes over. "So why didn't _you_ go into the lectures?" he asked, leaning a bit closer and into Jim's personal space. That was what he was supposed to do, right?

Jim blushed more as Sherlock got closer, his pupils dilating at the sight of him. "Rugby training? Ah right. You did say he was a strong guy..one of those types huh?" He giggled slightly, looking at Sherlock with some confusion. "What d'you mean..? I went into the lecture today.." His smile remained still, his eyes lingering from Sherlock's eyes, to his cheekbones, to his lips, his crotch and then back at the remaining notes still in his hands.

"Of course you weren't, Jim." Sherlock grinned, watching Jim watch him. It was a _game_ a ploy how to get him distracted. So those were the rules, hm.. _attraction, friendliness, shyness_. "Those notes are months old." he didn't look down at those, instead stared right at the other. He _was_ quite attractive, yes. Couldn't compete with Watson, but.. well, Watson was not attracted to males, while Jim's game was heading that way. "So what do you want here, if not give me your notes.." he breathed out, talking deliberately in low voice.

"R-really? They are..?" Jim quickly looked the notes over with a guilty smile, biting his lip. "Sorry! I am so sorry, I must have gotten them mixed up from my notes today. How could I have been so stupid?" He hit himself playfully on the head. Good. He was paying attention. "I wanted to c-come here to give you the notes. I'm no expert in criminology but I thought my notes might help you out. F-feeling so ill and all.." His voice drifted off, looking at Sherlock and blushing more at the taller male's voice.

Sherlock rolled his eyes - so that was the stable point, which Jim wasn't letting go of, good. He could respect that. "So you are going to leave your notes here and leave again?" he moved a bit away, leaning against the wall, feigning disinterest and boredom.

"Oh..uhh..if that's what you want me to do, Sherlock." He smiled gently still at the other, his eyesbrows curving into a slight worry. "Are you feeling ill still? At least the bruise isn't too bad.." His eyes lingered on Sherlock's cheek, longer than a usual person would have done and looked back quickly at his own hands. "Do you want me to go?" Jim was slightly hunched over, like a nervous school girl when she sees her crush in the corridor. Oh this was far too much fun. The most fun he had had in a long long time. Sherlock would make an interesting toy.

"I got the impression you wished to.. _court_ me." Sherlock carefully weighed his words, quite enjoying the game. He knew Jim was faking and thought that Jim knew he _knew_ about it. It was all about the first one to crack. Jim had all of the aces on his side, though, since Sherlock didn't have time to get some info about him. He made a note to take care of that - _later_.

"Court you..?" His look returned back to Sherlock with a slight giggle and a smile. "That's a wee bit of an old-fashioned term, surely? I..just wanted to hand you my notes, that's all. I thought maybe..when your head's feeling better that we could maybe go out for coffee though.?" Jim looked up into Sherlock's eyes with a hopeful smile.

Sherlock waved him off, quite satisfied the other was acting like he expected him to, with a grin. "I don't _date_ Jim." he informed. "And here I was.. asking you to bring me notes I didn't even _need_.. sending my roommate away.." he gave him another feigned grin, actually quite enjoying himself.

Jim's smile brightened. "Ok Sherlock." He giggled again slightly, "You caught me out. You really are a master of deduction! Here I was trying to be sneaky and coy about it." He blushed more, shaking his head with a slight smile. "Was it _that_ obvious that I like you? And here I was thinking I was being subtle!" He hit his head gently, putting a hand over his own eyes in embaressment. "How long is your roomate out for..?

"Sherlock shrugged, deciding not to comment about the 'confession', since it was obviously fake. Though it was nice of Jim to tell him more about this disguise - that was the reason why Sherlock didn't like disguises, they were way too flat and non-changing. "I asked him to stay out of the dorm at least till 4pm, though he has training till 5. Might go out with friends later." he raised his eyebrows at the male. "Any reason why?" he smirked.

"Why did you ask him to do that if you just thought I was going to hand you my notes then leave...? Unless..you uhh...were expecting something to come of this?" Jim blushed again, his eyes looking around the room. The question wasn't much of a question, more a hopeful statement with a ever-shy smile. Jim took in all the things he needed to know about Sherlock's room in a single quick glance before setting his eyes on the man again.

"Well, I was. But maybe you aren't up to anything more.. _fun_.. than exchanging notes." Sherlock teased with his smirk hidden behind his hand. So what if he wasn't really following the rules of the game, he _was_ allowed to change them. Nothing to loose, yet, right? He leaned a bit closer, entering Jim's personal bubble. "What says you?"

Jim's eyes lit up like a child's at christmas. Remaining completley in character at all times, his blush burned more and he smiled widely. "I'm up for anything, Sherlock. Especially fun." He grinned, raising an eyebrow playfully as he spoke in almost a whisper.

"Come closer, then." Sherlock urged him. He was a bit irritated at the other - the blushy charade wasn't much fun, since Sherlock wasn't used to being the one in charge - but didn't let it be seen.

He did as he was told, if they weren't already very close then they were now. His smile faded slightly, paying attention to Sherlock's face and wasn't able to stop himself, being this close. Jim sneaked his hand around the back of Sherlock's neck loosely, kissing him.

Sherlock mentally grinned at the victory, doing nothing to push him away, instead ran his own fingers trough Jim's short hair, pressing his lips right back. When he leaned away, it was to draw in a shaky breath, mentally reprimanding himself for _analyzing_ their interaction, instead of feeling it. "Would you like a tea?" he asked with his smirk hidden, looking at Jim's ridiculously flushed face. Honestly, when they both show their cards, he would have to yell at the other for choosing such an idiotic façade.

Jim smiled playfully at the other, composing himself before giving a nod. "Tea sounds great actually, thanks. I can make it if you want?" He didn't move but his eyes lingered to the kitchen.

"Oh no, I will make it." Sherlock waved him off, moving into the kitchen himself. He pulled one mug out of the shelf, putting the kettle on. "Come choose which would you like." he called back at the other, pointing towards the shelf of various teas.

"Oh? One than more type? I thought you'd be the normal tea type of guy." A coy smile played on his lips as he followed Sherlock, hands behind his back. "Have you got Earl Grey?" He inquired with a small giggle.

"Yes." he put the tea into a sifter, pouring the boiling water trough. He decidedly didn't comment on the fact that the tea was actually _Watson's _and not his. So what if he got to confuse Jim a bit? Sherlock leaned against the kitchen counter, not intending to move back to the room just yet. He shuffled the mug towards Jim, pointing onto a shelf where sugar was. "Milk is in the fridge. Might be spoilt, though."

"It's alright thanks, I like my tea without milk. Or sugar. Stops you from enjoying the true flavour.. covering it up with so many unnecessary factors." Jim smiled as his picked up the mug, blowing on the hot liquid gently. "I don't suppose we're missing much from lesson today anyways."

Sherlock snorted as an answer, "Of course not, most of the teachers are idiots anyway." he agreed, getting back to his favourite hobby of analysing. Jim, this time - tea without milk or sugar, he ran it trough his head, saving it for later. But it was a bit on contrary from the façade, so either it was the true Jim poking through, or just a decoy.

"Not all the teachers.." Jim ran his finger around the brim of the cup. "There are some which can be a bit stupid but uhh I like most of the teachers..Especially the English Lit teacher. She's friendly.." He sipped the tea, giggling slightly. "Still a bit hot." Jim blushed.

"Tea or the teacher?" Sherlock smirked at him, moving the mug from his hands and setting it onto the small table. He pressed a kiss into the corner of Jim's mouth, wondering how would the other take giving up control.

"The teacher.." Jim chuckled, though looked suprised and his smile returned more to his face, blushing again. He looked back up at Sherlock's cat like eyes, searching, waiting and daring the other to make their next move.

"Having hots for the teacher?" Sherlock raised his eyebrows, moving his cold fingers beneath Jim's shirt, to run them across his sides. "I wouldn't expect that from you."

"Shouldn't always just assume things of people." Jim grinned, giggling slightly at the touch, eyes still locked on Sherlock's. He couldn't help but shudder slightly at the others cold touch, but it was very welcome. He bit his lip, smiling more.

"That's how I work." Sherlock pressed a kiss onto Jim's neck, hiding his smirk into his skin. He tugged the shirt up and over Jim's head, throwing it over the back of the chair.

"I s-see.." Jim's voice was quieter now, giggling slightly as he brushed his hand gently through the other's hair, smiling still, and brushed his lips against Sherlock's. "Is this how you work too..?"

"Stress relief." Sherlock openly smirked, biting onto Jim's lower lip. "How do _you_ work?" he asked, grazing his nails down Jim's chest.

"Wouldn't you like to know.." He responded with a playful tone, shiverring slightly at the other's touch. Sherlock was being such a tease, trying to mess with Jim. But Moriarty would win. This was too much fun to lose.

"_You_ were the one telling me not to deduce people.." Sherlock breathed out, hiding his amusement. He pressed the other against the counter, leaning against his arms to completely trap Jim in between himself and the counter.

Jim let out a tiny, suprised gasp at being pressed against the counter, but it only encouraged his smile. He was unable to move, but he didn't care. "Now now..I never said that. I just said don't assume things.. nothinh about _seeing_ things." Jim reached up, kissing the bottom of Sherlock's jaw.

Sherlock leaned down, catching Jim's lips against his own, pressing flush against the other. "Well if you don't tell me things, I will just assume." he leaned away to mutter, moving his lips onto Jim's neck.

"Y-you're clever..it's fun to see a clever person's mind at work.. Better to keep you guessing." Jim's voice was just a whisper now, his breath hitching very slightly at the touch, craning his neck slightly. He let out a small laugh, trying to wiggle out of his grasp playfully. "Tell me..what do you assume of me then..?"

Sherlock lightly bit onto his neck, careful not to leave any mark. "Lots of things." he commented carelessly, moving his hand over Jim's back pocket, fishing out his phone to check the time. 2:35, that was good.

A very quiet breathy moan escaped Jim's lips accidently. He blushed more, wishing the other wouldn't tease him so much when he stood virtually powerless. "L-like what..?" Jim closed his eyes, taking in all the non-visual senses of Sherlock, deducting his current state undetected.

"This and that.." he refused to elaborate, instead moved to flick his fingers over Jim's hipbone, pressing another soft kiss onto his collarbone.

Jim hadn't apparently been expecting that and opened his eyes at the new touch, another inaudiable moan escaping. He managed to free one arm and brought it round the back of Sherlock's neck, pulling him closer and kissing him almost desperatley on the lips. "Very specific there, Sh-sherlock."

"It wasn't meant to be specific." Sherlock grinned, flicking his tongue over Jim's bottom lip. He captured his arm again, suppressing his frown, since he really, really didn't like being the one in charge, moving it back onto the counter. "So, Jim.." he murmured against his skin, the name foreign on his lips. "What do you want to do?"

He grinned at the sound of his nane being spoken in Sherlock's octave. How he could listen to that all day.. He kissed Sherlock again, testing the waters. "Honestly..? Right now..y-you." Jim whispered in his falsetto. How would Sherlock react? The other was obviously taking mental notes the whole time, simply trying to see how James would react and what he'd say. Obvious.

"No need to force yourself into anything, just because you are at my mercy.." he trailed of in a deep voice, almost whispering against Jim's ear. "You are a guest, we can do whatever you want us to do." he licked the skin beneath Jim's earlobe, his smirk shielded.

"I'm not-" his voice was weak and caught against his breath. Jim cleared his throat quickly. "At your mercy huh..? I'm at no one's m-mercy.." He responded with a smile. He seemed to contradict himself with the small, quiet noise he made. Sherlock was messing with him in more way than one.  
This was fun. Something to stop his boredom at least. His heart pounded hard against his bare chest.

"I think you _are_, and you are even enjoying it." Sherlock commented. 'At least your little alter ego is, since doing anything drastic will blow up you disguise.' he thought to himself, resting his hand over Jim's heart, feeling the pulse. "But you didn't answer my question just yet."

"Y-you really are clever." He laughed slightly, shiverring slightly at Sherlock's hand on his heart. He had trained himself to control his heart rate when lying but right now it pounded heavily, as to show infactuation. "Your talents are wasted on me." Jim smiled shyly. "The q-question..? Oh yeah. I don't mind. Whatever you recommend" His eyes flicked from Sherlock's eyes to his hand.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes slightly, "You have your own head, _Jim_.. your pick." he muttered, running his eyes over Jim's frame, bare chest and back up at his face. Just as every time he looked into the other's eyes, he felt coldness and warmth run trough his spine, mixture of anticipation, fear and utter and absolute _fascination_. His whole mind screamed _run _at him, only making him move closer and closer still. _Run _basically translated into _fun_ in his mind.

"Then I pick..spending more time with you. In a rather intimate way.." He blushed, smiling up at the taller male. "If that's ok with you..?" He felt Sherlock's gaze fall over his body and looked to the side, rather self conciously, hoping that Sherlock wouldn't notice the scars on the top of his chest but it was obvious the other man had. Jim didn't care at all, but the persona he was being right now did. "I'd kill to see you with you shirt off." He giggled slightly, biting his lip hopefully.

He hummed in answer, unbuttoning his shirt to slide it from his shoulders. It soon joined Jim's own over the back of the chair. "I am sure I told you I don't date, though." Sherlock warned, boring his eyes into Jim's. "So what I am offering is a _one_ time thing."

"Dates are overrated." Jim chuckled, his eyes sparkling as he looked over Sherlock's chest. Oh, he was excellent. The things he could deduct here were gold. It wasn't a bad looking chest either, he had to think. "P-perfectly fine with me.. Dating isn't exactly my specialty anyways. Never been one for commitment." His smile grew, looking back into the eyes of Sherlock. "I uhh I'm never unfaithful.. Just don't go on dates much."

"Well, Jim, _I_ am on the other hand never _faithful_. It's just so boring." he rolled his eyes theatrically, not even for a moment moving his eyes from the other. Fun.. funfunfunfun. He just hoped Watson won't turn up there early.. or maybe he hoped he would, that would make for an interesting situation. Or not. Jim was _never_ meeting his dormmate, if he had any say in it. Sherlock leaned into the male, pressing a kiss on the crook of his neck.

Jim wrapped his arms around Sherlock's back slowly and gently, timid yet confident. "You get bored easily.." He spoke again, his voice rather breathy at the contact of his neck. "I hope that won't be the case with me. That'd be a shame." Jim smiled, pulling himself closer to the other.

Sherlock shrugged, thinking something along the lines of 'probably not, since you are _dangerous_', but didn't voice it, only leaned into the other, laying his head onto Jim's shoulder. He breathed in his scent, noting all of the parts of it into his memory for later uses, letting his eyes flutter close.

Jim moved his hands to Sherlock's lower back with a smile, blushing at how intimate they were being but knew that Sherlock was just deducting him. He didn't mind. This made things very _very _fun. He pulled away from Sherlock slightly, kissing him. He really did look ravishing without his shirt. He bet he looked even better without the rest of his clothing too.

Grazing his nails down Jim's chest, Sherlock deepened the kiss, forcing himself to actually fight for the dominance, instead of giving it freely. No fun, but he had to bear it. He moved one of his hands onto the back of Jim's head, holding him still.

He smiled into the kiss, moving one hand up to his higher back to pull him closer and fought back for dominance. Jim refused to give way to Sherlock as he did not like to lose as did the persona also. Jim shuddered slightly at the grazing, encouraging him more as he let a small breathy gasp into the kiss.

Sherlock bit down onto his lower lip hard, moving his free hand to rest on Jim's lower back, pressing them together. He let himself groan softly into Jim's mouth, moving so that the other was leaning a bit backwards over the counter.

The groan had encouraged Jim, pulling himself gently away from Sherlock's lips to trail kisses down his neck, grazing his teeth slightly. He grinned as he felt the counter behind him, flushing at being so close to him.

"Oh my.." Sherlock bit down a moan, quite aware Jim had to notice, and rubbed their chests together, both of his hands resting on the other's thighs. He leaned his head back to give Jim more space where to play, hiding his satisfied grin.

Jim chuckled lowly, moving his other hand back down to Sherlock's lower back, his nail grazing against it and continued to kiss his neck, biting down slightly. This was more fun than Jim had imagined. He kissed up to Sherlock's jaw, moving his hands to run down the other's chest and pulled his lips away with a smile, looking into Sherlock's eyes, daring him to make the next move. How far would Sherlock go to play along..?

Sherlock smirked, just one side of his mouth curling slightly, and with a silent dull fell onto his knees, looking up at Jim while his fingers moved to unbutton the male's trousers.

Jim looked down at Sherlock, biting his lip with a playful gaze down at Sherlock. Interesting. James himself however, inside was slightly cautious of what was to take place next. His body would be under pressure, no doubt, the euphoria may soon take over and loosen Jim's tongue. Knowing that he may comprimised, he ordered himself mentally to act convincingly still but not give anything away. He would have to work harder to give off the impression that Sherlock wanted, the persona he was familiar with. It would be challenge.. but it would be a fun one.

Smirking, Sherlock noticed the flick of tension running trough Jim's body, guessing what was the cause of that. He looked up, blinking innocently, "Is there a problem?" he asked softly, his tone disappointed and partly hurt.

"H-huh..? No no. Not at all.. Why?" He responded, with a timid smile. Very well played Holmes, he mused internally. He played his part still, keeping his gaze on Sherlock and not looking away.

"You seemed a bit tense to me for a moment.." Sherlock shrugged, though he looked down at the obvious bulge in Jim's trousers, moving the zipper open.

"R-really..? Well.. I guess I'm possibly a little nervous? I've liked you for a while now." He blushed at his confession, smiling at him.

"Oh, I see." Sherlock returned the smile. "So going to tell me how you like it?" he teased, tugging Jim's trousers and pants down to his knees.

"I think I'd prefer to see what you'd do first.. I'm interested in different things right now." He sighed gently at the relief he got from not being held back. Jim smiled, smirking on the inside.

Sherlock sent a frown up at him, "I just wanted to make you feel good.." he complained, feigning being hurt. He moved a bit backwards, sitting onto his heels. "I thought you wanted me.."

"I..." He was caught off gaurd slightly by Sherlock's comment. What had he said wrong..? Jim was simply implying he wanted Sherlock to take the inititave, rather than do what Jim wanted him to. "I.. Of ocurse I want you. I want you so much."

"I don't have much experience on doing .._this_." he gesticulated towards Jim as an explanation, moving back onto his knees. Pressing a soft kiss onto Jim's inner thigh, he flicked his eyes up, waiting for confirmation.

"You don't..? You don't have t-" He cut himself off with a small gasp at the contact, smiling again. Jim looked at Sherlock almost pleadingly, wanting him badly. His persona did, atleast.

Flicking his eyes down from Jim's eyes - still the same, unchanged, cold, brilliant, _fun_ - Sherlock ran his tongue from the base to the tip, running the possibilities trough his head.

Jim allowed himself to let out a small moan, closing his eyes. He was, of course, allowed to allow himself a bit of fun. Sherlock, doing this with a man he'd met only yesterday and had forgotten..? Interesting. He obviously was curious about Jim. Sherlock wasn't an idiot, something was up obviously. He had allowed Sherlock to be a bit suspicious. This was his game after all, he was in charge. "Oh g-god.." He whispered, opening his eyes again.

Sherlock locked their eyes together, taking the other fully into his mouth. He had never done exactly _this_, though he knew how it was supposed to _feel_. Flicking his tongue over the very tip, he ignored his own gagging reflex, clutching his fists into the fabric of Jim's trousers.

He moaned again, amazed at what Sherlock was able to do.. had he really not done this before? The way he move indicated he wasn't lying. Interesting. This w- Jim's own thought were cut off and he gripped the counter behind him. "Sh-sherlock.." He whispered involuntarily.

Flicking his eyes up, Sherlock frowned for a beat, noticing the slip in Jim's act. No fun. He decidedly ignored it, swallowing around him to create more friction.

Jim quickly corrected himself. _You complete idiot! You're making this boring! I can't believe you would slip up over something as pathetically petty as something like this.. _His voice screamed at him in his head. No more slip ups. He would play his part, and play it well. He ran his hand through Sherlock's hair, encouraging him. "Y-you're pretty good at this.."

Sherlock just hummed in answer, moving his head up and down, clawing his nails into Jim's thighs for a leverage. He had just enough self-control not to move his hands down to touch himself, holding onto a stream of numbers trough his mind to calm down.

The humming caused him to moan again, letting himself do it this time. He noticed his nails digging in, he was obviously holding back. Jim smirked in his head, looking down at him. "V-very good.." The timid man enforced.

_Very good_, the words repeated in his head, Sherlock allowed himself a smirk as he hummed again. He _knew_ the types to use these kind of words, and most of them having at least small sadistic streak. Brilliant. He swallowed around the other, wanting to bring him over the edge if only to see his face.

He let out a moan which was more at the back of his throat, seemingly involuntary as he closed his eyes. Jim swallowed, his grip around Sherlock's hair tightly again. He made no further word based comment, thinking the persona would have gone too crazy by now to say anything of intelligence.

'Come on..' Sherlock urged him, though he didn't say anything out loud, obviously unable to do so. Instead he quickened his movements, humming again as that was what earned him reaction earlier.

He couldn't take much more, he tightened his grip on the counter behind him and threw his head back. He let out a groan as he came, shaking and breathing heavily, his eyes closed still as he leaned against the counter for support. "J-jesus.." He whispered in a thicker Dublin accent, catching his breath as he reopened his eyes to look at Sherlock. That had been convincing enough, surely?

Sherlock wiped his mouth and chin with the back of his hand, climbing back onto his feet, tugging Jim's trousers back on. He reached behind himself and tugged Jim's shirt over his head with a kiss onto his jaw, murmuring "Check mate." with a grin. A possibility of asking any question he needed to know the answer to ran trough his mind, but he ignored it, since that would be cheating, and just stirred the other male towards the door. He kissed the corner of Jim's lips. "Come again.", Sherlock said, closing the door.

Jim smirked, raising his eyebrow, allowing himself to break character apon leaving. "You wish." He spoke as he left, his whole tone completley different as he made his way, away down the corridor, satisfied with the information he had gained and the information he allowed Sherlock to have. Jim dissapeared completely from public view, knowing Sherlock would be thinking away. Good. Good. Sherlock would only be guessing, deducting and thinking what he wanted him to. The game was still in his hands and he wasn't letting go.

Sherlock moved into the bathroom, taking a quick shower to get himself rid of the smell of sweat and sex on his skin. Clad only in his trousers, he made his way onto Watson's bed, knowing himself good enough to know that he wouldn't be able to think on _his_, since that was a place he used to rest. He tugged his palms beneath his chin, running trough the information he had.

* * *

**Let's see about tomorrow.**


	5. Stalkers, Siblings

**Title: Of Rats and Men**

**Chapter: Stalkers, Siblings and Other Horrible Things**

**Characters: John Watson; Sherlock Holmes**

**Place: John's and Sherlock's dorm room**

**Mood: Shocked, Sad, Friendly**

**Warnings: Possibly none**

* * *

At sometime around 5, John had returned back from the day with his friends and training. Glad that it was a productive day, he stepped to the door and was about to open it before remembering Sherlock was going to have his friend around. He knocked on the door, really hoping they weren't up to anything.

Sherlock held onto what was important - the only time Jim openly lied to him. _Why_ was the question. Sherlock _knew_ the other didn't attend the days lectures, but he wouldn't admit to it - also, he had known what Sherlock studied, and knew his name. Meaning he didn't attend because _Sherlock _himself didn't? Also, his accent was still the original, totally unchanged by his stay in London - meaning he hadn't interacted much. Was it possible for John to come there because of _him_? That would mean they met before..

After waiting with no reply, John gripped onto the handle and opened the door slowly, peering his head around. He sighed with relief and walked in, closing the door and taking his jacket off. "Evening." John called, making his presence known to the rather distracted Sherlock.

Sherlock hummed something in reply, going trough all of the situations where he could have met the other - _no_, that was wrong. If they met, Jim wouldn't feel the need to _watch _him and get close to him to get his info. That left few possibilities, and one of them was quite easy to either confirm or dispel.

John sat down on Sherlock's bed, smiling at the thoughtful man. "How was your meeting with uhh Jim was it?" He inquired, looking around the room.

Sherlock slowly moved his head sideways to look at him, eyes wide as if seeing him for the first time. "It was.. _fun_." he said. "Hand me my phone.. please." he added when the memory of how _hard_ could Watson punch was just too fresh.

"Sure." He responded, going under Sherlock's pillow and stepped over, handing it to him before going over to the kitchen to make some tea. "Want anything while I'm in here?"

He didn't answer, tapping the phone to get onto the web of their university. He found about twenty males going by the surname of 'James', but only two of them shared more then two lectures with him. He pushed himself onto sitting position, flicking open his contacts and staring at the screen for a moment. He couldn't decide.

"I'll take the silence as a no then." He called from the kitchen, getting his mug out and looking at the teas. "Have you been at the earl grey? I don't mind but I thought you didn't like it," John started to boil the kettle and he walked back over. "How's the head?"

Sherlock looked up at him from his screen. "Should I, or shouldn't I?" he asked his roommate, gazing at him thoughtfully.

"Should you what?" John replied, trying not to get annoyed at his dormmate's cryptic questions. "Gotta be more specific." He headed back into the kitchen, hearing the kettle had boiled.

He shook his head. "Just choose one." he snapped back, irritated himself. He fell flat onto Watson's bed again, only his legs swinging over the edge.

"Fine. You should?" He called, "What are you doing on my bed anyways? Your bed is perfectley fine. I have work to do, Holmes." John walked back in with his mug in his hand.

"Can't think on mine." He muttered as he gazed back down at his phone. He sighed, deciding that now he _really_ didn't have much choice. He stood up with the cell in his palm. "I am going to apologise to my brother for stuffing a snowball down his suit." he announced to the older, even though he didn't know why. They were friends (_very_ awkward almost-friends, more likely) for less than ten hours, so Watson didn't really need to know.

"You put a snowball down Mycroft's suit..?" John's face looked amused yet questioning. "Fair enough." He laughed slightly, sipping his Jasmine tea. "No aphrodisiacs in this one, right?" He joked friendly, smiling at the other. "Good luck with it."

"It was his best suit, he had told me." Sherlock looked back over his shoulder when he exited the room. "Had I known, I wouldn't have stuffed a snowball down it. No. I would have used whole snowman instead." he muttered seriously, leaving the door open after himself.

John laughed, shaking his head slightly amd sat back down on his bed with a smile. Holmes wasn't as bad as he thought he was. Just got some getting used to, he guessed. He wasn't exactly bad to look at either. John had to stop his eyes from lingering when the taller left, making himself focus on his own tea. At that point, his phone went off. Popping the tea on the table, he answered. "Hullo..?" The caller hung up. Again? John wanted to block the number but it wasn't showing. He rolled his eyes and sipped his tea again.

* * *

When Sherlock returned into the dorm, it was about three minutes later - he hadn't needed much time after all. Just to ask, and get an answer. He was frowning as he made his way towards his bed, instantly curling himself around his knees, facing the wall. It wasn't fair. Not that _he _usually played fair, but this.. _He_ would never do that. To sell his own brother off. He had to blink to get rid of the tears appearing in his eyes, and hid his head under the pillow.

John watched the other walk in, noticing the look on his face. Not commenting, due to knowing he wouldn't get a response, John finished his tea and made his way to the bathroom and got a shower and afterwards he went on his laptop, browsing facebook with a yawn.

Sherlock refused to move for another three hours, silent tears soaking into the pillow. When he was sure he was composed enough again, he slowly sat up, tapping a quick message to Jim.  
**The game has ended. I am giving up. -SH**

He proceeded with deleting the number from his phone, though kept it stored in his memory.

**[20:11 Phone number invalid, message not sent: "The game has ended. I am giving up. SH"]**

John looked up from his laptop at his dormmate. "You alright?" He looked over at him curiously.

Sherlock stared at the error message with a sense of dread, before closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, it was to look at his dormmate. "No." he breathed out with his eyes wide.

"No..?" John repeated with an air of surprise. "What's wrong..?" Had something gone wrong with the phone call with Mycroft? Sherlock's face was stained with tears, but he hadn't heard him cry..he looked fine.

"Am I really like my brother?" he asked Watson, ignoring the question. It would be quite too difficult to explain, after all. And he had one more thing to check, but _after_ he got his answer.

"No." John replied, closing his laptop down and meeting the other's eyes. "You're not like your brother, thankfully. You're different, In a good way." He picked up his glass of water he had gotten in the time Sherlock had been quiet. "You're not on a stream of diet pills." He joked slightly, obvious that wasn't what he meant but tried to lighten the mood.

Sherlock nodded, quite surprised just how _strong_ the relief he felt was. Back to work, he thought, tapping onto his phone to get back onto the web of the university. He wasn't that surprised when he noticed there was no 'Jim Moriarty' enrolled in any course. So those were the new rules, Sherlock felt himself grin, before he remembered he actually _didn't _want to play anymore. But it was _fun_.

John watched him nod and sipped his water, opening one of his medical textbooks. "I'm going out again tommorow night with a few mates, I was wondering if you wanted to ..I dunno..come along? Get out of the dorm for a while..? " He offered, looking over to Sherlock. "I can understand if you don't want to."

Sherlock looked up, amused. "Of course I don't want to." he chuckled, finding the offer quite funny. He absently flicked onto facebook, inwardly cursing at the screen, since he didn't bother with getting his laptop and cell wasn't really that useful for web browsing. No Jim Moriarty there either.

"Alright then. I just thought..maybe it'd be good for you to get out and about and meet some new people. My mates are alright people, they'd be pleased to meet you." John knew nothing he could say would change Sherlock's mind so he just got on with his studying.

"Sure they would.." Sherlock muttered more to himself than to the other, moving to lay on his bed with his head hanging over the edge. He even checked police database - well, all of those he knew and could get into - and no trace of James Moriarty was found. As if his whole existence was wiped out.


	6. Poisons

**Title: Of Rats and Men**

**Chapter: Poisons**

**Characters: John Watson; Sherlock Holmes**

**Place: John's and Sherlock's dorm room**

**Mood: Sleepy, Sick, Helpful**

**Warnings: Possibly none**

* * *

_"Alright then. I just thought..maybe it'd be good for you to get out and about and meet some new people. My mates are alright people, they'd be pleased to meet you." John knew nothing he could say would change Sherlock's mind so he just got on with his studying._

_"Sure they would.." Sherlock muttered more to himself than to the other, moving to lay on his bed with his head hanging over the edge. He even checked police database - well, all of those he knew and could get into - and no trace of James Moriarty was found. As if his whole existence was wiped out._

* * *

John didn't comment and started taking notes. What had gotten Sherlock so vexed? Was it Mycroft? Maybe that Jim guy he had over? Sherlock said it was fun. He didn't bother thinking too hard into it. As he was trying to focus he phone rang again.

"Hullo?" A smile crept along his face as it was a voice he recognised.

"You alright Bricksy? Yeah yeah, oh you didn't hear?" John laughed slightly,

"Complete back. Yeah. You coming tommorow though?" He listened, laughing still.

"Great. Don't kill me next time alright? My ankle's still banged up. I. Yeah. Alrighty then, talk to ya later, mate." John smiled as he hung up, going on to text one of his other friends.

Sherlock watched the obvious ease with which John communicated with his friends, feeling slight envy. He had never been able to do that. Talk to anyone without having to be _careful_ of what he says.

He forced himself to get back to Jim. It was as if he never existed - aside from the fact that Sherlock gave him a blow, he grinned wryly - so it would be impossible to guess what would be his next move. Sherlock's eyes strayed back onto Watson, frowning. The male was about the closest he had for a friend, would Jim use that against him?

"All right, I will go with you." Sherlock announced when he counted the possibility was around 70 percent. Too high to leave Watson on his own.

"Wait.. Really?" John looked back at him, suprised yet pleasantly so. "Oh cool. We're going out for lunch, it'd be odd numbers so having you would be great." He quickly messaged the man who had just called.

**Bricksy, Holmes just said he'd come along. JW**

"D'you mind pizza?" He asked the taller, looking up at him before gazing back to his phone.

**Holmes? Your roomie? The dude who looks like a bat? RB**

John smiled slightly at his message, replying.

**Yeah. He's an alright guy. You don't mind do you? JW**

**Nah. It'll be interesting :) Molly's coming too. RB**

**Yeah, I know. She was there last night. You had to be there, it was so funny. She was completley mortal. JW**

"I don't eat." Sherlock said seriously, running his hand over his face. He was tense and nervous and it had nothing to do with Jim. _Why_ was he wary of Watson's friends? Well, aside from the fact that the rugby team had a habit of using him as a punching bag before he learned how to strike back.

**Ik, there was me all tucked up on bed when she came in. U told me you'd look after her. Seemed like a fun nyt atleast. RB**

"How do you do it? I know you're really skinny and stuff, but surely you have to eat every now and then..?" He asked Sherlock while texting back, genuinley interested as he can't recall have seen the other boy ever eating.

**I held her hair back for her! You feeling alright to come back out? JW**

**Yh, I'm doing better. Molly's just the one who's looking a bit ill, bless her. I was doing the honourable thing and didn't have a go at her even though she tried to tear my clothes off. RB**

**TMI, Bricksy. You should have heard her last night, badgering on about you. JW**

**Aww. Isn't she just adorable? You really need to get a gf mate. RB**

**I know, I keep on getting stood up though! I'm not gay before you go on about that! I've had enough of you lot saying about me and Holmes. JW**

"Why are you _giggling_?" Sherlock asked him, when Watson let out a noise somewhere in between chuckle and snort. "Of course I eat _sometimes_." he rolled his eyes, "And I am not 'skinny and stuff'."

"Just Bricksy." He replied not looking up from his phone, smiling still.

**Ohhhhhh. The plot thickens! I think you two would be cute together. RB**

**As if. Now shut it before I shove yr head down the gutter. Your mind's there anyways. Me and Sherlock are just friends and I'm not even sure about that. JW**

**Friends with benefits? ;) RB**

**Shove off, git! JW**

**Alrite Alrite, calm dwn. :D Just jokin. I'll seeya tonite then yh? RB**

**Adios. JW**

He put his phone back in his pocket with a small shake of his head, smiling still. John returned his attention back to Sherlock. "You are quite skinny."

"No, I am not." Sherlock scoffed, staring at him still. "What was he on about, that you were torn between _screaming _and laughing?" he continued on, hopeful that listening to Watson would take his mind off of Jim and his brother.

"Screaming?" John repeated, confused to what he meant. "You are skinny. Skinnier than me anyways." John finished the rest of his water, eyebrow raised. "Just nothing really, telling him that you were coming tommorow. Then he was going on about his girlfriend." He shrugged, not really knowing why Sherlock thought it was so important to know. Usually, he wouldn't even bother to ask about John, let alone anything about his friends.

"You looked ready to bolt." Sherlock pointed out, "Was he angry you were bringing me along?" he asked, not really caring, but saw it fit to at least ask. "Also, I am _not_ skinny. If you don't like how I look, just don't look at me." he snapped, feeling ridiculously insulted.

"Don't be ridiculous. I like the way you look, don't go bloody thinking otherwise." He retored, sluightly defensive. Of course John liked how he looked, he loved the way Sherlock looked. He was annoyingly beautiful. Frustratingly so. "He wasn't angry about bringing you along, he was just.." John shook his head. It was unimportant. Sherlock didn't need to know the rumours floating around campus, they were embarrassing enough for him.

Sherlock flushed a bit, but smiled wide. So John liked how he looked, that was good at least. Well, it wasn't that John _liked_ him, so no reason to feel so ridiculously _happy_, he snapped at himself. "So what did he say, if he wasn't angry?" he asked curiously when he noticed Watson not finishing his sentence. That was suspicious. And suspicious was _fun_.

He noticed Sherlock's smile, finding that even more annoying. It was just so perfect. John was sure of himself. He was sure that he was straight. He had always liked girls. It was totally fine to be gay, all fine. But he knew he wasn't. But.. that smile. "He was just going on about not being there, he's got man flu so had to drop out of practice. Basically just saying he didn't mind."

He hummed in an answer, fiddling with his phone. Sudden idea hitting him, he moved to jump down from his bed and sat onto the floor leaning against Watson's, so that he could stare at him from close proximity. "Did you get a call with number withheld again?" he asked curiously.

"In the last couple of hours..? No. But I got a good few when I was out and I got a lot yesterday. Why?" He looked down at Sherlock curiously, wondering why it was so important and why Sherlock had moved.

Sherlock closed his eyes, breathing trough his nose for a moment. He ran the situation trough his head, wondering if it was possible for the caller being _Jim_. Since the calls started _after_ they met, it _was _possible. Not very probable, but possible, still. "Don't pick up if the number is withheld and always let me know." he ordered softly.

"Alright then but I d-" He was cut off halfway through his phone ringing, quite creepily on queue. He picked up the phone from his bed but didn't answer and looked at Sherlock. "It's withheld.." That was quite a weird coincidence. Who's trying to call him?

Sherlock grinned gleefully before he could quite help himself, snatching the phone from his surprised hands. He picked up, saying a cheerful 'hello' into the device.

John frowned a little off gaurd at the other man's sudden energy yet not complaning that his phone was briskly taken from him, he was curious to see who the caller was.

A woman's voice answered the phone, "Hello there." Her tone was playful yet a little hoarse.

"Oh, either you went on an operation, or you aren't who I was expecting." Sherlock commented cheerfully towards the caller. He sent a victorious grin at his roommate.

"Operation..?" She mused with a chuckle. "Well then Mr Holmes.. who _were _you expecting..?" The caller toyed, speaking slower than a usual pace.

"Not that you aren't nice to listen to as well." Sherlock informed her with a smile. "But I am afraid I should be somewhere else right now." he mock-sighed, finishing the call. He threw the cell at his roommate, trusting him to catch it. "So, when are we going?"

"Tommorow.. Wait who was that calling? Was it a girl? " he looked back at his phone eagerly. "Why has she been calling me..?" John looked back at him quickly, really wanting to talk to her if she was a girl.

Sherlock sent him a frown, wondering if he should perhaps warn the older not to talk to the caller, but decided against it. "Tomorrow? I thought it was today.." he muttered, shuffling back onto his bed.

"Tomm.." John shook his head quickly. "Right yeah! It is today, what time is it?" He quickly ran a hand through his hair, distracted by the events of what just happened.

"_What._" Sherlock looked at him, for once feeling completely confused. "..it's nine eleven... are you _sure_, you aren't the one whose head got hit?"

John rubbed his head, blinking as he sighed. "I.. I don't know. No it's tommorow night for sure." What was wrong with him? His head felt hot, he reached for his cup and quickly went to get himself some more water. "Just ignore me. It _is _tommorow evening we're going out. I don't even know what I'm going on about.."

Sherlock watched him go into the kitchen and back, frown etched into his face. "Are you _drunk_?" he asked just to be sure, even though he didn't think so. He hadn't felt alcohol from him and John wasn't showing any other signs, just that he was a bit.. unfocused.

"No.. no. I'm not drunk. I haven't had any alcohol tonight, everyone else was drinking but I wasn't. Didn't feel up to it, plus I got an exam tommorow." John frowned, drinking water. "I'm.. sure I'm just sleepy or something, It's been a long day." He walked back into the room, slightly wobbily and sat back down on his bed. What was up with him?

"Well, you are showing signs of confusion, dehydration, your attention spam is even shorter than usual and you, to quote, look like shit." Sherlock announced calmly, laying on his back and looking up at the ceiling.

"Thanks Sherlock. Very lightly put." He rolled his eyes, finishing his water and layed back down on his bed. "I feel dizzy.. you didn't put any stuff in my drink like you said yesterday, did you?" John put a hand to his cheeks, they were visibly redder and he could feel them burning.

"Of course not." Sherlock scoffed. With a sigh he walked onto the other side of the room, sitting onto Watson's bed. "Sit up, idiot." he urged him.

John sat up, despite the insult and felt slightly dizzy. He gripped onto the bedsheet and looked at the taller. "How am I meant to know? Not the first time you tried your funny little experiments with me. You might have contaminated the water or summin." He peered at Sherlock, though his vision was going blurry. "What the hell is happening to me..?"

Sherlock snorted, ghosting his fingers over John's forehead and the back of his neck, feeling the difference in temperature. "That's simple, you are sporting a fever." he announced, the back of his hand pressed against John's forehead.

"A fever..? I've been fine all day Sherlock, I doubt I've got a bloody fever. It doesn't feel like a virus." John looked up at the man, although they were both sat he was still taller. "I've had a fever before. This is different." Had he been drugged? Had someone slipped him something when they were at the bar? He felt fine a while ago.. His head was swimming and he just tried to focus on Sherlock's face to stay focused. "Just tell me if you've done something, I won't get mad. "

"I have _never_ put anything into your drink, food or anything else." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "And be it a virus or something completely different, you now _have_ a fever, Watson, so stop being so bloody difficult." he gently pushed onto his chest to make him lay down again, tugging the blanket over him.

John kept his eyes on the other and fell back against the bed easily. "No... I don't want the blanket, Sherlock.. It's too hot." He complained slightly, tugging the blanket off him again. "I'm fine, ok? Sheesh. I appreciate the concern but I'm fine." He didn't want to worry the other, or himself. He would be fine. John felt himself shiver looking at Sherlock still. No. He would _not _be ill.

"It's either your blanket, or me." Sherlock rolled his eyes, trying not to think about the second alternative too much. Far too tempting. "Because if you have either virus or some drug in your system, sweating will probably help." he explained, tugging the blanket back over him resolutely.

"Or you..? What if I take option 2?" John replied, attempting to take the cover off him again.'What the hell are you playing at Watson?' He yelled at himself but smiled still, feeling too hot to deal with his thoughts. "I need some ice or something.."

Sherlock smirked when he watched the other kick off the blanket again. "You picked up the second possibility, huh.." he commented, moving to lay flush against Watson. Breath hitching in his throat, he ignored his own mind, pressing the older down by hooking his leg over him and circling his arm around his chest. "Now stay put and _warm_."

John laughed slightly, wrapping his arms around Sherlock. "You are warm. And such a funny guy." Was he drunk..? He felt slightly lightheaded, ot was that from being so close to Sherlock? John didn't understand, but it felt right for some reason. "Are you sure you haven't got a fever? You are very warm."

"I have a good blood circulation due to practising." Sherlock scoffed. "_You_ have a fever, Watson." he reached down to move the blanket over both of them, climbing halfway over the older student to restrict him from moving. "Due to the sweat leaving your body, the drug or whatever it is, should partly leave as well, so be a good doctor and do what I want you to."

John laughed again, more of a giggle than before. "No _you_ have the fever, Sherlock! I'm the doctor here, and in my professional medical opinion I think you're the fever guy, ok?" He rest his head against the pillow, feeling like he was going to pass out due to heat exhaustion, keeping his eyes on Sherlock still to concentrate. "But fine, I'll do what you want me to."

Sherlock just nodded, deciding that he didn't care enough to argue with him, and cushioned his head onto John's chest. He knew that by keeping Watson warm - with blanket and the bodily heat - he would soon be cursing himself, because he would have to endure the warmth as well. Not that he didn't like warmth, he was actually enjoying it greatly most of the time, but not the sticky, sweaty, uncomfortable kind of warmth.

"Imagine if people saw us like this, oh how they would talk" John mused slightly at their situation. "You in bed with me." He chuckled gently, running a hand through Sherlock's hair. John had no idea where this new found affection was coming from. Surely from the drug?

"You should know I don't care what people think." he scoffed again, wondering if it was worth the trouble anyway. Maybe he should just keep Watson to his troubles and get back to _important_ things. For some reason - and he knew _exactly_ what the reason was - he was quite comfortable, curled around the older male.

"I know. " He replied, smiling slightly. "Do you dislike me Sherlock..? I mean.. We've never really gotten on at all and we've always had our differences. Yet.. Here we are. Still dormmates. You could have moved rooms, I could have. Yet here we are." John reflected out loud, staring at the ceiling.

"Do you want to know what I think?" Sherlock asked teasingly, tapping his fingers onto John's chest in a rhythm.

The medical student looked down at the other, smiling softly. "Yes, I would like to know what you think." He tried to judge Sherlock's rythm, it wasn't morse code or anything. John realised he might have been thinking too hard and he shut his brain up to listen to Sherlock.

"Four Seasons." Sherlock commented upon noticing his questioning gaze. "And I think you should stop thinking while being feverish." he grinned, suppressing his chuckles by biting onto his lower lip.

John chuckled, "Four seasons..? What do you mean by that?" He asked. How on Earth was he meant to try and not think when faced with an answer like that? "Your face is feverish." John grinned, his failure of an insult only meant playfully as banter.

"I know it is..." he muttered softly, thinking that the flush was starting to be permanent on his face. "Yours is as well, though you are the only one having fever." he was whispering, unsure if Watson even heard him. "And by Four seasons I meant the rhythm. I play violin." he explained a bit louder.

"You play violin? Oh that's cool, I play baritone occasionally. Hoping to be in the band when I enlist after college." He hummed quietly, running his hand through Sherlock's curls gently. "You might be catching my fever.."

"No I am not. _My_ 'feverish' face has nothing to do with fever, Watson." he rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't take you for the kind of guy who understands music." Sherlock commented softly.

"What has it to do with then, Holmes?" John replied, eyebrow raised. "I do understand music, I read in both cleffs and I can alternate between a low and a much higher octave, depending on the piece. I just don't have the concemtration or want to play anymore. Haven't got time."

Sherlock hummed as an answer to Watson's statement, deciding not to answer his question. Not that there was large possibility of the older even _remembering_ this conversation in the morning, but better be safe than sorry. He nuzzled his face into Watson's shoulder. "You should try to sleep, Watson.. Are you warm?" he asked just to be sure, since he definitely _was_.

"Very warm. Roasting, even." He responded, putting his arm around the younger. "I will sleep..but you avoided my question. Can't I get an answer?" John's voice was low, tired.

"That's not how the game is played." Sherlock smirked, making himself comfortable in the limited space Watson left him with his arm squeezing him to himself. "And now sleep." he ordered.

"Fiine." John groaned lightheartidly in defeat, closing his eyes in the extreme heat he was expierencing. "I want the answer tommorow Sherlock." He smiled, "Night Holmes."

"You can want whatever you want." Sherlock whispered more to himself, absently rubbing circles into Watson's side. He himself felt quite sleepy due to the warmth, and ridiculously comfortable, which had _nothing_ to do with the warmth on the other hand. "Sleep well." he murmured, closing his own eyes. Maybe sleeping won't hurt. Even though he slept trough half of the morning. Sleep was fine. Waking up was usually worse.

At the last of Sherlock's baritone murmurs, John immediately slipped into a dreamless sleep. He was incredibly comfortable with Sherlock where he was but was still agonisingly hot. He didn't stir in the slightest and seemed quite peaceful.


	7. The Morning After

**Title: Of Rats and Men**

**Chapter: Poisons**

**Characters: John Watson; Sherlock Holmes**

**Place: John's and Sherlock's dorm room**

**Mood: Sleepy, Chatty, Nervous**

**Warnings: Possibly none**

* * *

In the end he hadn't slept that night at all, his attention captured by a soft beep of his phone. Reading the mail from his brother, Sherlock identified it as a folder of information about James Moriarty. How nice. He thought it to be some kind of peace offering, so he scoffed, but went trough it anyway. Not much, but enough to be at least a bit wary. It - aside from basic information and previous crime suspicions - gave him the identity of Watson's mysterious caller.

* * *

The calm silence of the night went unnoticed by many as they slept but like Sherlock, Jim didn't sleep. Walking around the campus alone in the night, he was collected and quiet and looked up at the starry dark sky. He had answered the phone. Good. Things were all falling into place exactly how they were meant to. Sherlock knew only what Moriarty allowed him to know. He suspected that Mycroft had already given him the file. Definitely good. Jim floated along, eagerly waiting for their next encounter.

* * *

"I see you are awake." Sherlock commented absently, from where he was curled on his chest and looking onto the screen, held over Watson's stomach. He flicked onto the next page, quickly scanning the info. It looked as if there were _three _people he should be wary of the most - Jim, of course, Watson's caller Adler, and Jim's right hand Moran. Moran was supposed to be some kind of explosives and guns genius, and from them all the only one already graduated. An _adult _then, Sherlock snorted in disgust. Jim called an _adult _to play their game - how cowardly of him.

"Wow Sherlock, your deduction skills truly are brilliant." John replied sleepily, blinking his eyes awake. "D'you know what time it is?" He asked, due to having an exam today but he really didn't want to leave his bed.

"Yes I do, actually." he said dryly, though he didn't answer the hidden question. Let's see Watson make fun of him again, about his deductions.

"And you're not gonna tell me I guess..?" He retorted unamused. "Fine. Can you pass my phone at least? I can't get up with you cutting off my bloody circulation." John looked down at the other.

"No I am not - _great deduction_, Watson, and _no_, I can't. I am working." he muttered crossly. He noticed all three of the 'main players' he will be facing were supposed to be really smart. That was nice. The game will be interesting, if a bit unfair since he will be alone against three of them.

"Fine! Whatever! Can you just get off me then if you're going to be no help and just a pain in the arse?" John commented annoyed, glaring at him now. He was hot enough as it was and he didn't want Sherlock on him if he was going to just be a jerk...Just when John thought Sherlock could be different, he was just the same as yesterday morning.

"Oh _do_ calm down before you have a heart attack, Watson." Sherlock rolled his eyes, even though the older wouldn't be able to see it, since he was facing down. "You still have three hours to get to your _exam_." he thought about it for a moment, before actually looking up, his hand with the phone resting over Watson's stomach. "Is this your _last_ exam? Because the exam period is almost over, and I already have everything done.." he frowned.

"Three hours.." He sighed, putting his head back on the pillow. "I have three more exams until my exams are over for this year." John's head was swimming slightly, still trying to keep up an air of being annoyed at Sherlock. "What do you even study again.. criminology or biology or something..?"

"Linguistics." Sherlock snapped back up at him, irritated that the older was irritated with him. He didn't do anything - _yet_. Breathing in and out he calmed down a bit, "And criminology. I _do_ have few biology lectures, yes."

"Ah right. Linguistics." John replied, really wanting the other to get off him. "That's speaking right? You're perfectley good at speaking already." He wasn't exactly sure what that course entailed.

Sherlock just snorted, it quickly subsiding into full fledged laughter. He tried stifling it, but the thought that he was _irritated_ at a male he was laying on, was far too much for him. And they were talking about _linguistics_. Hiding his face into Watson's chest, he shook with laughter.

John wasn't expecting Sherlock to burst out laughing like that and only looked at him with a bemused snile. "What? What did I say?" He was confused but couldn't help but let out a little laugh.

Sherlock clutched at his stomach, surprised by the laughing fit himself. After trying three times to explain, which only ended in unarticulated gasps and giggles, he concentrated on calming his breaths.

John laughed at Sherlock's attempts, finding that he liked seeing a happy Holmes, despite meaning to be mad at him. "What? What did I say?" He repeated, laughing himself.

Finally calming down, Sherlock rubbed his chin into John's chest. "It's nothing you have said, I just found entertaining that we are arguing, while 'cuddling' in your bed." he grinned embarrassed, flicking his eyes upwards towards the older.

"I guess that is kinda ridiculous," John mused, looking at the other. "We're not cuddling. You're uhh just lying ontop of me. In my bed." He felt a blush fall over his cheeks, only just realising their situation.

"That really sounds so much better." Sherlock rolled his eyes, rubbing his cheek into John's stomach to get rid of his flush. He thought that maybe he should _move_, but he was way too comfortable to do so. And Watson had yet to shove him away - that was good, wasn't it?

"It does. Since guys don't cuddle, right? " The question was rhetorical but he felt he needed an answer, a reassurance. John knew he wasn't gay. He liked girls. Sherlock was the only person ever who had even made him consider oth- No. No no no. There was nothing wrong with it, of course. It's fine. All fine. But..John continued to look at Sherlock and he couldn't help but smile.

Sherlock shrugged. "Well, some do – _I _usually do after sex." he pointed out. "Not that _we _had sex." he snorted in embarrassment, "'S just that I sometimes _do _cuddle." he trailed off, when he noticed he was only making it _worse_. And why was he telling that John anyway?

"You err..you swing that way, don't you?" He asked awkwardly, "I know we didn't have sex. It was just very hot and you wouldn't let me have covers." John stated as calmly as he could though he knew he was blushing visibly.

"You kicked your blanket every time I looked away, you needed to stay warm." Sherlock commented with a roll of his eyes. "And no - I don't think I 'swing any way' at all." he made a face at the phrasing.

"Anyway...?" John looked confused. "But you said you do have sex. Are you asexual..? Do you prefer one over the other?" John was genuinley interested in this.

With a frown, he tried to explain -"I meant.." he almost choked, unsure of how to state it. It was easy to talk about _sex _in biological sense, but to explain _feelings_.. "I don't _have _a preferred.. way." he trailed off awkwardly, scratching his head.

"Another idiosyncracy there Holmes?" John smiled at him, not commenting on getting an amswer but more suprised. Happy that they're talking for once rather than hating each other from opposite ends of the room. Polar difference now, he was cuddled up to him. "It's alright, you don't have to explain it to me."

"No, it's not an idiosyncrasy, Watson." Sherlock frowned, getting frustrated that he just wasn't able to put it into words. "I don't - I. _Gah_!." he exclaimed irritated, hiding his face into John's skin. "I like both men and women. Well - _some_ of them. I would call myself 'pansexual' or something." he muttered in one breath.

"Ah I getcha. Bricksy, the guy I was texting is that. He's got a girlfriend and she's coming to the thing tonight too. Molly Hooper, you know her?" He smiled, interested. "Heterosexual myself if you're wondering."

"I wasn't wondering." _Yes I was. Though this is not what I wanted to hear_. "Know her, her father works in the morgue, took me there few times." Sherlock muttered softly.

"Well then, you'll have two familar faces there at least. Bricksy takes art, music and theatrical arts. Bloody drama queen. I think Donovan and Lestrade might come tonight too. Anderson's a maybe." He shrugged, smiling. "You'll be fine."

"Four familiar faces." Sherlock commented darkly. "But yeah, might be _fun_.." he trailed off thoughtfully.

"Oh really? That's really good then. It'll be interesting at least." He smiled as he nuzzled his head into the pillow with a slight yawn, he couldnt believe he was still tired.

Sherlock snorted. "Not really _good_, Watson, but yes. Interesting it probably would be." he admitted.

"You...Can call me John, y'know? " He thought it was quite ridiculous Sherlock was still using his surname considering the position they were in. John could feel Sherlock breathing against him for crying out loud.

Sherlock shrugged. "I don't mind either way. It doesn't really matter, does it, how we call each other.." he said, trying to stop himself from thinking about the upcoming event. It _was_ a bit scary.

"I think it does. Calling me John is more personal, like we're friends. Calling me just Watson is a bit old fashioned don't you think..?" He frowned slightly, was that all he thought of him as? Watson? But here he was..in his bed. Why did it even matter to him? Just Sherlock..right?

"I do a lot of things mostly considered weird -_John_ - yet, the only thing bothering you is me using your surname." he rolled his eyes again. "If Anderson is here, promise to safe me?" he turned his wide eyes up at Watson.

"Sure. No problem. I don't really like him but he's sleeping with Sally so none of us can really say no. He really is a twat." John smiled, his hand running through Sherlock's curls absentmindidly.

"Yes he is.." he muttered, the irritation subsiding when he felt John's fingers in his hair. It was nice. More then nice, it was brilliant. "He wouldn't remember his own name, if he didn't have it written down."

John laughed, feeling content for once. "True. True. No idea how he got on the course to study forensics. Bet he cheated or something. No idea what Sally sees in him."

"Donovan? Never met her. Lestrade told me she is pretty, though." Sherlock commented absently, scratching his fingers against his jaw in thoughts.

"She is yeah, I guess. I mean she could probably get any guy on campus. Why Anderson..? Each to their own I guess." He smiled in thought, playing with Sherlock's hair still.

"Well, she can't be more dumb than Anderson, so she probably won't be that bed." he shrugged. "You do know Lestrade? I wouldn't have guessed.."

"Yeah, me and Greg do rugby together." John replied with a smile, "I've known Bricksy for ages, met Sally through Greg and Anderson through Sally. Knew Molly anyways. How d'you know Anderson?"

"Anderson? I though you would be more interested in how I know Lestrade." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Anderson is in my year, I 'get' to help him with biology." he muttered in disgust.

"Alright then, how'd you know Greg?" John rolled his eyes, "Ah I see. Get to..?"

"He was really pathetic, professor made me teach him." Sherlock mumbled as if it was a crime.

"Can see he'd be a pain in the arse. Never really liked him." John sighed, closing his eyes as he felt content.

"I met Greg 'bout two years ago." Sherlock sighed again. "He helped me a bit, we are something like friends."

"Friends..? You have..friends?" He didn't mean to sound harsh, he was just genuinely suprised.

"No." Sherlock snapped. "I said 'something like friends'. We know each other, we greet each other and help each other when needed to. Had sex once. He punched my brother once." he finished with something like awe in his voice. The look on Mycroft's face was.. brilliant.

"You had sex with Greg?" He opened his eyes, suprised. "But..but he's straight. How did you have sex with him?"

Sherlock burst out laughing again, muffling it by pressing his face into John's shirt. When he calmed down enough to answer, he did so with a roll of his eyes. "Obviously, he is not completely straight.. I think he might have fancied my brother a bit, when they met later.." he trailed of thoughtfully.

"Really...? Oh..I..wow." He wasn't expecting that to be serious. Had Sherlock had sex with a lot of people? More than John...? Possible. He was suprised at Greg, moreso at Sherlock. John didn't know quite what to say.

"It's understandable if you are disgusted, I have met enough people not to be surprised." Sherlock muttered with a sigh. He ran his finger across John's stomach absently, tracing invisible patterns.

"Disgusted? I'm not disgusted at all, don't be stupid." He smiled slightly. "There's nothing wrong with it. It's fine." John stated plainly.

"Good." Sherlock smiled himself, not stopping the movement of his fingers. "You sounded a bit - unsure for a moment there."

"Really..? When?" He smiled, only now feeling Sherlock's touch. John's text tone went off. "Uff..can y' pass me that?"

Sherlock reached his hand for the phone, passing it to the older blindly. "Who is it?"

John took the phone and pulled it above his head at eyelevel, reading through it. "Bricks. He's just wishing me luck." He threw the phone back over to Sherlock's bed and put his head down on the pillow again, sighing.

"Exam?" Sherlock guessed, relaxing again when John stopped moving beneath him. "You will be brilliant, you know the subjects."

"Yeah, probrably." He smiled at Sherlock's comment. "You think so? Thanks. I guess.. I don't think it'll be too hard."

"Of course it won't." Sherlock snorted. "The exams are ridiculous.. though you are in higher year, so maybe they are a bit harder.." he trailed off thoughtfully. "When do you need to leave?"

"An hour." He sighed. "I'll get ready in half. Won't take a few minutes to head over to the exam hall." John stretched slightly.

"You need half an hour to get ready?" Sherlock rolled his yes. "Sure you aren't gay?"

John laughed, almost giggling. "Very funny. I need a shower and to go and get more milk." He smiled, really not wanting to move.

"You can get the bloody milk _after_ the exam. Don't tell me you aren't going out to.. celebrate or something." he raised his eyebrows at him. Tryingly sniffing at around Watson's collarbone, Sherlock smirked, "But yes, you _do_ need a shower." he announced cheekily.

"Yeah, I know I do." He laughed gently at Sherlock's comment. "I've been sweating all night due to this insufferable heat. Which you forced me to." John grinned at him. "Alright then. This has been nice but off ye get."

"You were either sick or drugged, that was the only solution I could come up." Sherlock retorted, refusing to move even an inch. Instead he relaxed all of his muscles to put his dead-weigh onto the older student. He was curious what would Watson do, after all, he had proved to be quite fun.

"Drugged..?" He smiled, "Did you and your friend slip something into my mug? Hope not." John looked at the other, raising his eyebrow. "I need to push you off..?"

"I didn't put anything into your mug and as for Jim-" he froze for a moment, deciding that Moriarty wasn't above that. No need to scare John, though. He put on a false smile, "he didn't do anything either." it was probably truth anyway, Jim wasn't in the kitchen alone, not only for a minute. Unless he managed to do it _when_ he came. Interesting. He would have to know beforehand which of the mugs was Watson's - well, judging by the fact that the only other was Sherlock's, and _that_ he used to make Jim his tea, it wasn't that impossible.

"Good. I don't wanna die halfway through my exam or summin." He smiled, really not wanting to move as he felt quite comfortable. "Come on Holmes..I need to get up." John sat up with a slight yawn, he was hot and dizzy still but he had to get ready.

"Who says I care about what you need." Sherlock commented calmly, not moving in the slightest.

"Right. No, of course." He grunted, rubbing his forehead. "That wasn't you caring last night then huh? Just to interest you?" He sighed. Of course, Sherlock hadn't changed. He felt hot again, his anger problems not helping with his ill state. "Get off, please."

"'Get off' is exactly what I refuse to do. You are warm." he commented with a hidden smirk. Refusing to answer the question, since he didn't want to _admit_ anything to his roomate, Sherlock stifled a laugh at his obvious ire.

"Yeah, well I don't care. I have an exam soon and I gotta get ready. Last time, get off before I push you off." He didn't want to exactly move either but he had to, frowning at Sherlock he pushed the top of his cover off him.

Sherlock frowned fleetingly, tightening his arms around John's middle. He sent a smirk up at him, challenging him to _try_. Well, he was aware Watson would probably succeed, but it was still worth the try. "You still have an hour, Watson.."

"I know. But I'm going now. Y'kn.." John sighed defeatedly, feeling too dizzy to deal with any of that and fell back, burying his head in the pillow. "Never mind.."

"Good boy." Sherlock reached to pat his head teasingly. "I will let you go in exactly.." he got a grip of Watson's hand, to look at his wristwatch, "..twenty seven minutes, leaving you exactly ten minutes to take a shower and _run_."

John couldn't help but burst out laughing at Sherlock's challenge. "Fine!" He smiled, running his hand through Sherlock's hair happily. "I don't mind. I'll make it."

"I never said you won't." Sherlock muttered softly, letting his eyes flutter close. He _liked_ having people play with his hair.

He did really feel more comfortable with Sherlock, regretting not doing this earlier, although he had loathed the other for a while. "Whats your plans for today?"

"Sleep.. think.." he shrugged the question off. He didn't really have any plans, too afraid Jim would have something planned for him. Not that that wouldn't entertaining. "And you are taking me out, aren't you." he chuckled a bit.

John laughed slightly, "Yep. Wow. Cuddling. Taking you out. Bit err different ey?" He smiled, tugging gently at the dark curls.

"I have never dated anyone." Sherlock mused out loud, rubbing his cheek into John's chest. "Not that we are dating, of course." he added quickly, cheeks burning.

"Really? Anyone? Not even once?" He closed his eyes, smiling happily and not seeing the other's blush. "Y-yeah. We're not dating. Just to be clear."

"Nope. Never found it important." he shrugged. It was only waste of time, since he didn't _need_ to spend time with people, could buy food for himself and had never problems finding someone for the 'stress relief'. But he _might_ make an exception - for _John_. Not that the older would want him, so it wasn't really important.

"I guess it could be considered unimportant but..I think it's nice. More of a fun thing to do than a necessity. Wish these girls wouldn't all stand me up though." He frowned, wondering why all the girls had just left him recentley, his relationships ending a lot earlier too.

"Fun thing." Sherlock repeated with a disgusted snort. "_Sex _is fun thing. Experiments are fun things. _Dating_ is whole lot of unnecessary lying, pretending and running around. _Why_?"

"I think its fun, but thats just my opinion. Sex is fun too, of course. A lot more fun to earn it I guess, after the date. Maybe form a relationship with the person? Get married?"

"Oh my, Watson." Sherlock raised an eyebrow up at him. "You are a _sap_. And you are what - twenty? And thinking about getting married?" he suppressed his laughter, since he really didn't want to be shoved off.

"Yeah, why not? I'd love to get married. _One day_. Not now. I don't mind non-serious relationships and one time things but yeah..One day. Call me a sap all ya want." He laughed, brushing through Sherlock's hair contently.

"Don't worry, I will." he smirked. "But why getting _married_, though? There is nothing _..romantic_ in marriage, really. It's just an 'agreement' between two people, who decided to live together. Probably won't for much longer, though, statistics says it all."

"It's very romantic Sherlock.. Joining of two hearts, two souls together. Til' death do them part. Or atleast until thr divorce is filed." John rolled his eyes slightly.

"If you want to 'join two hearts and souls', you should just cut each other's palms and do the 'blood ritual' or something." he muttered sarcastically. "No _words_ can do that, people lie. Everyone does. Words mean nothing."

"May not mean something to you, Sherlock. It does for a lot of people." He smiled. "No blood rituals for me thanks."

"People lie, everyone does." Sherlock repeated seriously. "Words don't mean anything, Watson."

"They mean things to me Sherlock. Everyone does lie. Not all the time." His smile faded slightly.

"Of course not _all_ the time. The best lies are those based on truth, after all." Sherlock shrugged.

"Can you tell when people lie? Like, read into it and stuff?" He opened his eyes, curiously.

"Depends.." he shrugged it off. "Some people are good at hiding it." Like Jim, for example, he thought for a moment.

"Alright. What about me? Can you tell when I'm lying?" He stopped running his hand through Sherlock's hair to listen.

"Of course I can." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "You are way too easy to read." _Most of the time, anyway.._

"Unlike you." He laughed slightly. "I guess I haven't got anything to hide." John shrugged, continuing to play with his hair.

"Probably not." Sherlock shrugged. "Well, maybe you do, just not realize it yet." he scratched his chin thoughtfully.

"Maybe." John repeated with a small yawn, he was really in no state to go to the exam. His phone went off as he got a text message from the other side of the room, he groaned slightly, knowing he'd have to reply.

"Nope. Not going anywhere." Sherlock grinned as he tightened his grip around him again. "Still have seven minutes." he announced as he twisted John's arm to look at his watch again.

John fought back a blush, "Why?! 7 poxy minutes doesn't make any difference at all, I have a bloody exam to go to!"

"If it doesn't matter, why are you getting so angry about it?" Sherlock couldn't stop grinning. It was way too fun.

"Because that could be 7 minutes well spent, not wasted in bed with a git on top of me." He frowned at him, tugging his hair childishly. "Get off"

Sherlock laughed madly as he noticed John _pulling_ at his hair. And people called _him_ childish. "Nope. And just a minute ago, you were enjoying having a git on top of you."

"I was never _enjoying it_. Just putting up with it! Not anymore. Off. Now." He frowned at Sherlock's laugh, getting annoyed.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, actually rolling off the bed. He landed on the floor with a loud thump, slowing his fall with a hit of his palm onto the floor. Sitting up, he gave John an evil glare. "Irritating." he complained, moving to his own bed.

John got up, quite dizzily and stormed off into the bathroom. "Your face is irratating.." He grunted, slamming the door behind him and ran the shower.

"How mature." Sherlock rolled his eyes. He leaned to open the window, moving to sit on the windowsill He plucked a cigarette in between his lips, lighting it up with a flick of a match.


	8. Exams

**Title: Of Rats and Men**

**Chapter: Exams**

**Characters: John Watson; Sherlock Holmes**

**Place: John's and Sherlock's dorm room**

**Mood: Bored; Daring; Nice**

**Warnings: Possibly none**

* * *

John looked at himself in the steaming mirror, feeling dizzy again. With only his shirt being taken off, he leaned against the wall for support. His arm was shaking and he could feel the rest of himself failing to keep him up, wanting to call for Sherlock but remembering he was mad at him, he tried to control his breathing and stay up. He made his way over to the sink to splash water onto his face but his legs failed him and he hit his head off the sink, falling to the floor.

Sherlock frowned, freezing in the middle of taking a breath of the smoke, when he heard a bang from the bathroom. "Watson? You ok?" he called, jumping down from the sill to knock at the bathroom door, cigarette still in between his lips.

No reply came from the older, as he lay on the floor, out cold though his body was red hot and shaking slightly. The sweat dripped down against his face though he could not realise.

"Watson?" he called tentatively, reaching to open the door. It was unlocked, thankfully, and he peeked around the door hoping that John wasn't just taking a shower or something. That would only earn him a punch. But John was laying on the floor, unmoving. Sherlock cursed, quickly moving him to sit up, leaning him against his chest. "Can you hear me, John?"

Off somewhere, faint in the distance, John could hear a small voice, a familiar voice. His head banged in pain, feeling a liquid fall down his neck. It was hard to breathe, too hot. It was too hot. The voice was so far away it was unimportant, he just wanted to sleep.

Sherlock cursed again as he pressed his palm against John's cheek, feeling it burning. The heat radiating from the older male was far too much as well, so he hefted him up as much as he could, considering the fact that Watson was _heavy_, and moved him to sit in the shower. He switched the water on _cold_, tugging the older student right beneath the stream.

After a considerable amount of time of not reacting to the sudden cold, John awoke abruptly, coughing on some of the water. He felt sick and even dizzier but was extremelely greatful for the cold. He wasn't even questioning how he had hot there, his eyes closing again as he leant against the wall. Sleep. He wanted to sleep.

Sherlock grinned, noticing Watson's temperature was now closer to the norm. He pulled him onto his feet, swaying under the weight, and tugged to move him onto the older's bed. He quickly stripped the older male of his shirt and trousers, tugging him beneath the blanket. Sherlock softly cursed to himself, fishing Watson's phone from his pocket.

**Bricksey or whatever your name is - what is the number of class where Watson has his exam now? -SH**

John felt like he was flying through cool clouds, a dazed smile on his face his head went onto the pillow. Fluffy clouds.

**Class 54-B. Why? Who is this? -RB**

Sherlock switched the cell off and threw it onto his bed. He sighed, moving to put on a light blue jeans that he never wore and stole John's metal-band shirt, ruffling his hair up. Hopefully, noone would recognize him - people usually didn't notice others, so when he changed his image only a bit, it should be enough. "Will you be fine on your own?" he smirked at the sleeping male, not waiting for an answer.

The voice was faint in the distance again. Clouds, fluffy clouds and now angels? Had John died? His head was too fuzzy to care. The angel seemed to ask him something so he made a noise, quites hoarse. He was still only semi-concious.

Upon hearing the silent noise from the older, Sherlock chuckled and leaned over him, pressing a kiss onto his forehead. No harm done, right? Since Watson was asleep. He shrugged, putting a pen into his pocket, he left in search of John's exam-room.

He felt the kiss, smiling in his sleep. The angels were good to him, he felt comfortable as he slept, falling into a deep dreamless sleep.

* * *

One hour later Sherlock stepped back into the dorm, feeling quite amused. The exam was way too easy. He loomed over the still sleeping male, running his fingers gently over John's forehead, noticing his temperature normal. That was good. He shook Watson's shoulders, trying to wake him up. "Watson? How are you feeling?"

He woked up groggily, opening his eyes with a small smile. "H-huh..?" John looked up at Sherlock, "Oh God, did I miss it?" He sat up, rubbing his head. "Did I.. How'd I get here..?"

Sherlock hummed thoughtfully, pressing his fingers into John's neck to check his pulse. It was slightly frantic. "How are you feeling?" he leaned over him, moving his palm beneath Watson's nose to see about moisture.

"Confused. Dizzy, thirsty." He said quickly, looking up at the younger. "What happened..?"

"I will get you water." Sherlock nodded, rubbing his fingers together. John's breath was a bit too dry - probably due to the previous fever. A lot of liquid would be important. He returned with a glass of warmed water. He knelt onto the bed, raising the older male against his chest to help him sit upright.

"Thank you.." He smiled dazed and took the water shakily. He raised the glass to his lips, remembering his dream about the clouds, genuinely had believed he was speaking with angels. He blushed at his stupidity and drank thirstily.

Sherlock laid his arms around the older to steady him as much as he could. "Drink slowly." he instructed silently, if only to say at least _something_ not to feel that awkward.

He pulled the glass from his lips, wiping his mouth. "Sorry." John murmured. "Did I miss my exam? Is..that my shirt?" He looked the boy's scruffy apperance over. He didn't look too bad.

"Yes it is. Aside from the fact that it's highly ugly and hilarious, it's quite comfortable. And has a nice smell." Sherlock rolled his eyes, taking the glass from him. He set it back onto the floor and carefully lowered the older back into his covers, moving to fill the glass again.

"It's not ugly, you just don't have a decent taste in music. It's a great band. Went to a concert recently, brilliant." John smiled back at the memory, moving back against the covers. "Why are you wearing it..?"

"Just felt like it." Sherlock muttered, setting the refilled glass onto the floor next to John's bed. "Wait few minutes and than drink it." he sat onto his own bed, embracing his knees to his chest.

"Thanks Sherlock." He looked at the glass, then back at the younger man. Why was he being so nice..? Wasn't he still in a mood with him? "Can you pass my phone?"

"Where did you leave it?" Sherlock asked, sneakily shuffling the device beneath his blanket.

"I.. I dunno.." He looked around, frowning. "In the bathroom? On your bed? I haven't the foggiest.." John shrugged, picking up the glass of water.

"You can use mine for now, I will find it later." he threw his own phone towards the other. He laid onto his own bed, drumming his fingers against his chest thoughtfully. He fingered John's phone next to his side, silently flicking it on.

"Thanks." He caught the phone, going to the messages. He typed in Bricksy's number and sent:  
**What's going on? Did I miss the exam? I fainted. JW**

He put the phone on the side of the bed until he got an answer, taking a drink of water.

"Who did you text anyway?" he commented absently, flicking a message to Watson's friend he couldn't remember the name of.

**Not a word to Watson, or you are dead. -SH**

He promptly deleted both his sent messages and the one he got from the guy as an answer. Now it should be safe.

"Bricksy. Just asking about the exam.. did I miss it?" He looked over at Sherlock but got a text back.

**No idea sorry, mate. Was at a rehersal. Guess who got the call-back? :D RB**

John smiled down at the phone,

**Congrats mate, even more reason to celebrate tonite then! JW**

"You don't remember it?" Sherlock raised his eyebrows at him. "You wouldn't stop whining about it and went there, got back about hour later, talking about squirrels.." he shrugged, cursing at his own head for the nonsense - _squirrels_, really? What did he have in his head? Squirrels? Looked like it.

"Oh.. right.. of course." John smiled slightly, not remembering a single bit of it but guessed it must have been true. He remembered angels.. not.. squirrels. He shrugged and threw Sherlock's phone back over to him. "Thanks. Uh.. why am I in my underwear?"

"Not sure." Sherlock caught the phone, throwing John's at him in an exchange. "Did you want to sleep in your jeans?"

"Oh, you found it then." He caught it clumsily, quickly going into it. "Where was it at? Nah, I wouldn't wanna sleep in my jeans.."

"On my bed. Creating lovely hole in my spine. You were right." Sherlock ran hand trough his hair, drumming fingers onto his knees. "So why are you so surprised you aren't wearing them?" he raised his eyebrows.

"I dunno.. I just don't remember taking them off. Guess my mind's playing tricks on me. What time is it?" He rubbed his head with a sigh, putting his phone on the side.

Sherlock chuckled softly, laying his head sideways onto his knees, cushioned by his palms. "You have time on your phone, Watson. Or did you forget that as well?"

"Oh.. yeah.. right sorry." He smiled akwardly, picking his phone up again. "1pm..? How long have I been asleep? Bloody hell.." He sighed, putting it back down. "Eventful morning for you at all?"

"Not really. Didn't leave." he lied again, watching the older with amusement. "I stole your laptop and watched few episodes of tv show." he shrugged.

"Fair enough. But my laptop is password prot- Oh never mind." He smiled, knowing it wouldn't make much of a difference. "You should really listen to some Of Mice and Men. Good band."

"No." he flat-out refused, not even thinking about it. "I like Vivaldi, idiot. _Nothing_ is better than Vivaldi." he rolled his eyes, though he couldn't help the smile that made itself home on his lips. Was he really turning into a schoolgirl? With blushing, smiling, giggling and riling Watson up just to have his attention? That was honestly pathetic.

"Alright alright. Don't call me an idiot! What's that? Vivaldi..? Type of car or something." He shrugged, finding the insult unneccesary. The name sounded italien. Type of pasta?

Sherlock stared at him for few beats, hoping his mouth wasn't actually hanging down. "You are kidding, aren't you.." he asked in a silent voice. If he had a habit of praying, he would now be praying this was some kind of Watson's idea of a joke.

"Uhh a car? Pasta? Something italian right? What is it? I'm being serious yeah." John's smile faded as Sherlock was giving him that look again, the look which made him feel like an idiot.

"Forget it.." Sherlock muttered, falling flatly onto the bed. He rolled so that he faced the wall, curling into a ball. It was just so.._frustrating, sad, stupid_ that people were so dumb. And he couldn't do anything against it, could he. And everyone wondered why he kept his distance from people.

"You don't have to bloody sulk about it! Fucking hell, Sherlock!" He yelled at the other, chucking his pillow at him. Seriously, he was getting annoyed..at this? Ridiculous. He would leave if he weren't so dizzy.

Sherlock snatched the pillow from where it landed on his head, hugging it to his chest. It smelled like _John_. He sighed. "Vivaldi is a musician, his most famous composition would be Four Seasons for violin.." he trailed off silently, not moving to turn around.

"Right! See! So hard? There's me bloody educated!" He was angry at the other's behaviour without a doubt but couldn't quite understand why he was so affected by it. He dived under his covers, burying himself underneath, curled up and blocking the other out.

"Yes it is fucking hard Watson!" Sherlock snapped right back, sitting up in his bed to glare at him. "'Educated'? Really? This is a fucking _general knowledge_! It's.. it's _Vivaldi_! That's like not knowing who was Joan d'Arc!" he shut up, closing his eyes to calm his breathing down.

Hidden under his sheet, he couldn't see the glare but could hear it in his voice. "Sorry, you've mistaken me for a bloke who gives two shits! You have the wrong number. Maybe you should unload your massive intellect onto someone who cares!? Why not Jim? Just fuck the hell off!" John's voice was very loud but failed at the end, realising how worked up and angry he was getting, he couldn't help it. What the hell was wrong with him?

Sherlock felt as if slapped, his breath refusing to come out of his lungs. He looked down, not saying anything, just concentrated on his breaths. In, out. In, out. It was ridiculous. Jim was smart, too bad he was dangerous. Or not? Was it good? Danger was always good. But this time Sherlock had something to loose as well - _John_. Or had he? He didn't give a damn about his brother being in danger, but was afraid any harm would come to his dormmate. Yet, they weren't friends. Obviously. Sherlock sighed, moving to lay on his bed again, looking thoughtfully at the ceiling.

John remained quiet, grabbing his phone and pulling his head out from under the covers as it was starting to get too hot under there.

**Roommate's being an utter twat. Where you at? -JW**

**Hanging in the courtyard with Molly, what's he done now? Had a lovers quarrel? -RB**

**Piss off. No. Just had a go at me for not knowing some fucking violin guy. -JW**

**Play nice Johnny boy. We all still wanna meet this guy. You feelin better? -RB**

**Slightly. Not with this twat though. I will not play nice! -JW**

**Tut tut. -RB**


	9. Calls and Dates

**Title: Of Rats and Men**

**Chapter: Calls and Dates**

**Characters: John Watson; Sherlock Holmes; Sarah Sawyer**

**Place: The University**

**Mood: Plotting; Playful**

**Warnings: Possibly none**

* * *

John put his phone back down sighing and retreating under the covers, refusing the speak to the other as he was furious at the boy's attitude.

Sherlock heard his roommate move around and just hoped the Bricky or whatever guy would not give him away. That would make things even _worse_. He kept looking at the white ceiling, feeling his eyes water from being constantly open, but didn't care. Deciding not to dwell on Watson - that was difficult, since the older was loud presence on his mind, and his scent was embracing his senses due to the pillow pressed into Sherlock's side - and rerun the information he had on Moriarty, finding it severely lacking.

**Don't tut tut me. I'm dying here, I have a fever or sumthing. Sherlock might have put stuff in my drink. -JW**

**Doubt that. Stop being such a git and make out with him. -RB**

**Make out?! -JW**

**Whooops. Auto correct. Make up* -RB**

**Yeah right. I'm not talking to the dickhead until he speaks to me. Gtg feeling faint. -JW**

John closed his eyes against the pillow again, his head swimming. He felt hot again.

**Get better soon :( Molly sends her love. RB**

John stood up, falling off the bed clumsily and made his way to the bathroom to sit under the shower again, sighing slightly at the relief of the cold water.

The younger watched him go, cursing himself for being worried. He _did_ help him, no one could expect more from him. Everyone thought him a jerk, who would leave dying man in pool of his own blood, and maybe he would. Never was in the situation to know. He hummed to himself silently, finding the familiar tune of Four Seasons soothing. He _loved_ that one. Honestly, simply and basically loved it. With a sigh he tugged his fingers beneath his chin.

He dried his hair off, changing into a pair of trousers he had on previously and walked back in, sighing. Sherlock had done a lot for him. "I'm sorry for getting pissy at you there." He frowned, looking at him, stood at the side of the other's bed. "I don't know a lot you do, ok?"

Sherlock snorted at himself, wondering what should he do. Most of all he wanted to keep sulking, but that would only make Jo-Watson to stop talking to him. But it was _Vivaldi_! He couldn't just tell him 'forget it' and be fine with that. It was _Vivaldi_. Sherlock turned around to stare up at the older, at loss of what to say.

John just nodded and sat down on his bed, running his hands throw his wet blonde hair. This fever was getting better at least..had to be better for tonight. He couldn't even remember doing the exam. All he could remember was the angels.

"How are you feeling, Watson?" Sherlock asked thoughtfully, watching the older student with worry. He wasn't that pale and flushed anymore and his body hold was less dizzy and more upright. He looked better. Sherlock did a double check on that thought, correcting it to 'he looked healthier'.

"Better, thanks." He looked over at the younger. "I'm sorry, again, for being a twat. I'm trying to deal with my anger issues." John sighed slightly, checking his phone.

"I would think playing rugby would be relaxing enough.." Sherlock muttered more to himself than to John, twirling string of his hair between his fingers. Mycroft hated it when he did that, so he usually did that just to spite him. Not now, really, now it just helped him to think. A bit. Not much, a cigarette would be better. "Try sex. That helps." he turned his eyes upwards in thoughts.

"I played rugby yesterday. I've tried martial arts.. Yes, I know sex helps but I keep on getting stood up on dates and clubs are ok I guess but whatever." John shrugged.

"Martial arts?" Sherlock perked up a bit at that. "Really? I wouldn't call you for someone into MA.. you are more of a 'catch and punch' type when fighting." he raised his eyebrows in amusement.

"Judo mainly, a bit of tai boxing. Karate.. None of them worked for me and eventually made me more aggressive. I kinda prefer rugby anyways." John started to search up the musician he mentioned on his phone. Four seasons.

"Of course not that wouldn't work for you." Sherlock snorted again. "It's not nearly enough destructive. Try Taekwon-do. That's better." he rolled his eyes. "Or just find yourself a fuckbuddy. But leave it out of the dorm."

"I don't have fuckbuddies Sherlock. Unlike most of the guys on campus. I think you should treat girls with a bit of respect." He shrugged, slightly offended by the suggestion. "Very American idea there.. wouldn't dream of it. I guess most guys my age would, but I've always been older for my age I guess.." He feared the day his hair would turn grey, at the moment he was just trying to stay upright.

**Oh! Guess what, found you one. -RB**

**Who this time? An actual person, please. -JW**

**Sarah. From your class? Watcha think? -RB**

**She's nice yeah. Actually, yeah. Good one. -JWI want to be your kid's god-dad or whatever it's called! -RB**

**Surely you'll be a famous actor by then? -JW**

**Defo! :D With that role I've been cast, I'm on my way to showbiz! -RB**

**Aren't you on your date with Molly, why are you texting me? -JW**

**She's gone back to get ready for tonight, it's only bloody 3. We have ages. But she wants to look good. Women. -RB**

**Tell me about it, livin with a stroppy one right now. -JW**

**Lol, talk to you later, she's pissed at me. -RB**

John returned his attention to the internet, looking up and learning about the violin player. Hopefully this would impress Sherlock. He didn't know why he wanted to impress his dormmate though.

Sherlock thought it over with a smirk curling his lips. "I don't think I am very interested in _women_, actually." Really, if he thought really hard, he was more interested in males lately. Must have something to do with Watson. Talking of Watson - the older was hanging on his phone - probably the Bricksey kid. Sherlock frowned, hoping the guy hadn't told John anything.

"Hey, Watson." he called still with a frown. "Your friend, did he have the exam with you earlier?" he knew he did. Since he had been there, but Watson didn't know that.

"Yeah he did. Dunno why though, he takes Theatrical arts and stuff. He's an actor but training to be a doctor. Guess its just in case his career falls through, so he has something to fall back on to." John shrugged "I hope he did ok, I can't remember for the life of me taking that exam, must have done though. Maybe the fever's made me lose my memory, can fevers do that?" He asked, looking up from his screen.

"No." Sherlock rolled his eyes, just to see how would the older panic if he didn't know what was causing his memory loss. Honestly, _he_ was supposed to be doctor. Ridiculous. Though he had claimed a wish to be an army medic and soldier would suit him good.

"No..?" No. Of course not John. Why are you being an idiot? Have you ever read about memory loss from fevers before? Stop being a twat. John looked at his phone again. "Of course.. Right uhh.. I guess I must just be having a funny five minutes or something."

"My guess is that you were just sleepwalking." Sherlock snorted in amusement again. "Honest to god! I don't want to know what will your results be!" he moaned dramatically, enjoying himself maybe far too much.

"Doubt it. Must be going senile or something." He layed down on his bed and as he did so, his phone rang. He picked it up as he recognised the number. "Ello mate, you alright?" He smiled as soon as he heard the other man's voice. "Yeah sure. Yeah." He moved out of bed, throwing one of his shirts on. "Yeah. Brilliant I'll be 5 minutes." John smiled over at Sherlock. "Bricksy's got me a date. Kinda. I'll be back later!" He ran out.

"What happened to the evening out you promised to take me on?" Sherlock smirked up at him, making himself comfortable with his arms under his head. "..though I am not sure if I want to meet him anyway.." he muttered softly to himself. Really, that would just bring too much questions towards him. "Have fun!"

* * *

As soon as John left the room, Sherlock's phone began to ring, the number withheld.

Sherlock reached to pick it up, pressing the device against his ear. "Hello there." he greeted cheerily.

"Hello Sherlock." The woman's voice was hazy. "My my.. haven't you been a naughty boy? Doing an exam for your friend I see? Never knew you could be naughty."

"I would like to inform you, Miss Adler, that things like.. _this_ probably won't work on me." he rolled his eyes, though he felt himself grow interested. She was with Jim. She was smart. "Want to meet me for a dinner?" he asked with a grin playing across his lips.

"Don't you have plans though Sherlock? Wouldn't want to upset your little date with John." She smirked although he couldn't see. "I'm flattered by the offer. Simply flattered, but I have other arrangements for tonight. How about tommorow?"

"I didn't mean it for tonight. Though I am glad that flatters you, flattering people is not my usual rule, but it's nice." he commented with a roll of his eyes. "I have a proposition, Miss Adler." he smirked softly, thinking that she probably would be able to make things more interesting.

"Oh?" She groaned playfully into the phone, "Do tell."

Sherlock gracefully slid from the bed and walked out of the dorm. "Oh not that easily, Miss Adler." he chuckled. "First do me a little favour and tell me where are Jim's cameras.." he noticed his voice adopted the same tone as Adler's as a subconscious reaction.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about. Me and Jim aren't.. joined at the hip you know? Anything he does is independant of me~" She took her time with each word, almost caressing them as she spoke, glad he was playing along.

"I was under the impression you worked _with_ him." Sherlock smiled, deciding that the corridor window should be safe. He turned to face out as not to be lip-readed. "And you knew things you shouldn't have, have you not been watching or listening to me and Watson talk." Sherlock titled his head sideways, talking softly.

"Not at all. I have much more important things to be doing than just watching you two boys talk. Sorry if I've dissapointed you." Her voice was still seducing, still entrancing as she smiled. "I know a lot of things, Sherlock."

"Of course you do. I never doubted that." Sherlock grinned to himself, since no one was really there. "Well, as you were unable to give me the answer I needed, I won't share what _little_ I know.. But the proposition, the proposition." his smile was growing with every passing second. "You want to play against me just as much as I want to play against you. That's why you joined with Jim.. but he doesn't listen to you, does he. I think you will agree to help me get rid of Moran, won't you."

"Get rid of Moran..? I'm interested. What's in it for me? And why..?" She toyed with him, her voice playing over the phone.

Sherlock chuckled. "Because he doesn't play by our rules, he is a grown up." he stated simply, before thinking of how to explain. "And Jim listens to him. We all want to win, of course. But the three of us - me, you and Jim - aren't desperate. He would be. He would do _whatever_ it takes to win. You won't, I won't and Jim won't as well if Moran is not there. Do I have to explain _what_ exactly am I talking about?" he asked with a soft smirk.

"Why not? Humour me with you explanation. Your voice is sexy anyways. Deep. Very deep. And intelligent. I like it."

Sherlock couldn't help but chuckle again. "Thank you, Miss Adler, I find your voice quite pleasing as well." he grinned, surprising himself that he actually meant it. "What I meant - you and me. We both have something - _someone_ - we held dear. Someone we don't want to get hurt by this game. Moran doesn't and wouldn't hesitate to come and hurt _Watson_ to get at me. And do you think I won't reciprocate? It won't be that difficult to find who _you_ held dear, Miss Adler. But we both want to keep them safe and _away_. Get rid of Moran with me, and we may be successful."

"You've sparked my interest, I'll admit." She laughed slightly. "We'll discuss this further. Busy now, must dash Sherlock. Talk to you later." She hung up with a smirk, looking over at the man opposite her, her eyebrow raised.

Jim smirked, "Persistant one, isn't he, Miss Adler? Well, I must dash. See you later." He left her with a smile, leaving his gun behind.

Sherlock hummed thoughtfully, something that he was doing more and more often lately, and retreated onto his bed. His eyes flicked towards Watson's part of the bed, wondering how was his date going.

* * *

Sarah was watching the male opposite of her, nibbling on the straw from her drink. John was sweet, she had to admit. Sweet and adorable. "What do you study, John?" she smiled at him, taking a sip of her drink, never moving her eyes away from the other.

John smiled up from his drink at the girl. "Ah well, I er.. at the moment I'm studying medicine, much like yourself of course. We uh.. are in the same class aren't we?" He was happy that his fever had gone down considerably and found it great that Sarah hadn't stood him up after all the other girls had, he really owed Bricksy this one.

"Yes we are." Sarah giggled softly, covering her mouth with her hand. "Though I wasn't sure if you studied _medicine _or something different. Forensics, for example." she smiled at him over the table, circling the top of the glass with her fingers.

"Ah, right." He laughed along, genuinley feeling happy for once. "What do you study, Sarah? What do you want to get out of your studies?" He smiled still, watching her.

"My father owns a hospital and he wants me to take it after him." she admitted a bit sheepishly. "Bri told me you want to be an army medic, is it true?" she leaned a bit closer to him, leaning her head onto her palm.

"Oh wow. That seems really good." He smiled, taking another sip of his drink. "Yeah, My dad's in the army and so has all my uncles and grandads and stuff, so I'm used to army lifestyle. Don't really think I could go civi street.. soo Army Doctor it is for me." He thought back on the answer he gave with a nod. "How do you know Richard then?"

"We were neighbours as long as I can remember." Sarah smiled. "But aren't you scared you will get hurt out there?" She asked him with his eyes wide, twirling a curl of hair in between her fingers.

"Oh wow, and _I_ thought me and him went back a long way." He laughed softly, admiring her. "I'll be fine out there. At least I'll be helping people, which is all I wanna do out there. If I get hurt, I get hurt."

"He punched my brother when he pulled my hair." Sarah laughed softly, cheeks flushed. "Well, if you ever tire of being a soldier, you can always come working for me." she gave him a wink and a grin.

"Awwh how nice of him." John laughed, "Sure does sound like him." He couldn't help but blush at her wink but did his best to disguise it. "Careful, I might take you up on that offer." He joked with a smile.

"You make it sound as if having you work with me wouldn't be a pleasure." she smiled. "I know well enough, Mr. Watson, that you have the best grades in our year."

"Oh no no, it'd be a delight to work with you, Sarah." He laughed again, shaking his head. "No no.. I'm sure you must have heard wrong or something, I'm hardly a brain-box"

"If you aren't a brain-box, John," Sarah grinned, "Everyone else is a stupid child. And I heard it right." her grin grew wider. "You are seven percent above the second one. Above _me_." Sarah chuckled softly.

"Above.. the second.. _you?_" It took him a few seconds to process what he had heard. "Oh yeah, right." He laughed slightly, rubbing his neck. "Oh wow, you're like, really smart then. I never doubted that at all of course. Only 7% though, I bet I've messed this exam up big time and you'll be number one easy."

"Why do you think you messed up?" Sarah frowned a bit, soft crease appearing on her forehead. "Bri told me he thinks you will get one hundred for this one.." she shrugged. "Still, you have average of 89! That's awesome!"

He couldn't help but smile, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks. "That's very kind of you to say, Sarah. I.. " He laughed again, feeling bashful. "Thanks. I.. haven't exactly been feeling my best recently, I had a fever when I went into the exam. And that was just a few hours ago, don't worry I'm not contagious." John smiled kindly. "I can't remember taking the exam but I guess my brain must have gone into overdrive or something and I forgot." He shrugged.

Sarah looked at him thoughtfully, fingers running up and down her cheek absently. "Bri seemed _sure_ you will get above average." she narrowed her eyes. "Might be your subconsciousness taking action, or.." she trailed off. "Well, we will see if Bri's right, won't we?" she asked cheerily with a smile back on place.

"Yeah you're probably right." He smiled, watching her. He felt calmer around her, a lot happier than he had been stuck in the dorm with the roommate from hell. "We will! And I'm sure he'll be wrong. Did you take the exam today too?"

"No, I have it tomorrow." She sighed and looked at her cell to see the time, blinking horrified at the numbers - where did the afternoon go to? "I will have to run." she turned her wide eyes at him. "If I want to keep my average, I still have to take a look at the topic.." Sarah explained sadly.

"It's totally fine." He smiled resignedly. "Thanks for this Sarah. It really means a lot, Don't let me hold you back. Good luck and stuff." He stood smiling widely at her. "Can I have your number?" John asked, in a hope she wasn't just making excuses to leave.

"You can't." Sarah grinned, standing up. "But you can give me yours. And I hope we will see each other again?" she asked a bit hesitantly. Sarah slid her coat on, leaving bill on the table to pay for her drinks and handed her phone to John for him to add his number to her contacts.

He grinned, adding his number to her contacts as 'John'. "I'd love that, yeah. You're a real treat to be with. Really brightens my day to be honest." He handed the mobile back and laughed slightly. "Good luck with your exam, I bet you'll do brilliantly. Maybe we could study together sometime?" He suggested as he put his note down to pay for the drinks, giving her her money back.

Sarah stuck her tongue out at him, refusing to take the money. "I will text you when I am done with my studying, 'k?" she smiled at him, standing onto her tiptoes to press a kiss onto John's forehead.

He bit his lip with a smile. "I'm looking forwards to it. Oh! Sarah, me, Richard and a few other people are going out tonight for pizza, d'you wanna come..? Maybe?"

"I would _love _to, but.." Sarah shrugged sadly. "I really need to have a look at the topic, you know.." she grimaced a bit, pulling on her gloves. She left the pub with a wave of her hand and a smile.

"Seeya then." He said cheerily as he put his jacket back on with a happy sigh, walking out and back to 221-B. It was only a couple of hours now until the big get together, hopefully Sherlock would behave. Humming the tune to Four Seasons, John walked back in, closing the door and hanging his jacket up.


	10. Meeting the Man

**Title: Of Rats and Men**

**Chapter: Meeting the Man**

**Characters: John Watson; Sherlock Holmes; Jim Moriarty/Richard Brooks; Molly Hooper; Gregory Lestrade; Anderson; Sally Donovan**

**Place: The dorm; Pub**

**Mood: Cheerful; Chatty; Light**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

Sherlock was laying on the bed, relaxed and his eyes closed, ears covered by headphones. He pressed them closer to his ears by his palms, lost in the melody, wide smile formed on his lips.

He made no attempt to make his presence known and pulled his shoes off and sat on his bed, watching the entranced younger man with a fond smile. John took a drink from his glass and checked his phone, 0 messages. John couldn't take his mind off Sarah. She was great.

As the track stopped, Sherlock blindly put next one on play, wondering _why_ exactly did anyone bother with sending him the link. Not that it wasn't great, a balance between classical music and modern one, soothing melody and the combination of intricate tones of piano and cello. He wasn't sure _who_ sent it to him either, but had three suspects. Jim, Adler, or someone completely different.

**Hey John! It's Sarah. What you up to? xx SS**

John looked back at his phone, a wide smile spreading over his face as he saw the sender. He added the number to his contacts.

**Hey Sarah, how're you doing? I'm just sat back at home. How's studying going? :) -JW**

**It's difficult! Can's see how you could have 100! Honest. It's a nightmare. SS**

**What bit are you stuck on? I went to library to study as it's easier to there than with my hellhole of a roommate Ha-ha you can do it! :) JW**

He propped his pillow against the wall and leaned against it, making himself comfy as he opened his laptop, eyes lingering over to Sherlock.

**Just too much to remember. You don like yur roommate? I dorm with a stuck-up princess, wanna trade? SS**

**Ha-ha mine's a stuck-up princess too! :D I know how that can feel. Can be a lot to remember, but perseverance! You can do it xx JW**

**I know I can, I am brilliant ;) Almost there! And once again to remind my stpd brain what I need to know. SS**

**Exactly! You're brilliant! I'll leave you to your studying, don't wanna distract you xx JW**

He smiled at his phone as he sent the message, leaving it on his bed as he went into the bathroom to splash cold water on his face.

**'night. SS**

Sherlock listened to the track finish, suddenly the music subsiding to the sounds from around. He heard footsteps and opened his eyes, seeing Watson in the doorway. Sherlock screamed in shock as he didn't hear him enter and scrambled to sit up, the wire of his headphones almost strangling him. "When did you - when did.. _when did you come here_!" he asked the older while tangling the headphones off.

A bit startled at first, John stumbled a bit but then burst out laughing at Sherlock's reaction. He clutched his chest as he went into a fit of laughter. "10 minutes." He managed to speak in between gasps of air.

"You could have warned me!" Sherlock snapped at him with his eyes wide, still more startled than angry. "And it's not funny!" he felt hot rise into his cheeks in embarrassment.

He wiped the tears from his eyes, laughing turning into giggling. "You looked a little very preoccupied." John smiled at him. "You enjoying your music there?"

Sherlock frowned, trying very hard to calm down his frantic heartbeat. It could have been someone else, some one far more dangerous than John, that caught him unaware. Sighing deeply, Sherlock offered a nod as an answer, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes.

"Are.. you ok Sherlock?" He stopped laughing, looking at Sherlock with genuine concern. Had he actually been spooked?

"You _scared_ me." Sherlock accused, even went that far as to point his finger at the older. "I don't like being scared.." he muttered, looking down.

"I.. I'm sorry I scared you. Seriously, that was never my intention. You just looked so relaxed and into your music that I didn't wanna disturb you."

"Oh.. I see.." Sherlock mumbled embarrassed. "I am sorry." he apologized as well, scratching the back of his neck. "How was your .. _date_?" he asked in distaste.

"Don't apologize, It's my fault. I should have made my presence known." He ran a hand through his hair. "It was really good yeah. She's great. You still coming tonight?"

"I guess I am.." he shrugged, not really in the mood to go _anywhere_. But he promised. And he actually wanted to spend time with the older student. And his friends maybe. Not really. "When are we going?"

"Half an hour." He smiled, settling back on his bed. "You gonna be ready by then?" He raised an eyebrow, smiling.

"Why shouldn't I?" he asked confused, looking down at himself. He had managed to shower by the time John was away, but was wearing the jeans and metal-t-shirt from before again. He shrugged, deciding that he can go like that anyway.

"Alright. Just sayin'." He shrugged, opening his laptop again. John yawned, looking up the violin player again, humming as he did so. "Sarah was really nice. She knew Bricks too."

Sherlock frowned for a fleeting moment, before he schooled his features back into a passive indifference. John didn't need to know he was.. _not very fond _of his girlfriend. "So? Lot of people know 'Bricks'. Even _I_ exchanged few text messages with him."

"You have? He's a nice guy isn't he? That's why he was able to bag Molly. They're really cute together." He smiled, happy at their relationship. Happy for them. He hoped he could be as happy with Sarah. "Where'd you meet him?"

"I have never met him." Sherlock corrected him softly, cursing himself for saying that in the first place. "Now, aren't you going to change?" he pointed towards John's almost formal clothes.

John looked down at his clothes, "These should be fine for going out right..? I guess not then." He went into his drawers and pulled out a band shirt, taking his own off and flung it on over his head. "Better?"

Sherlock absently ran his eyes up and down John's chest and stomach, before it got covered. "A bit more proper, yes." he shrugged, forcing himself to stop staring. Again. "Can I keep the shirt for now?" he asked, pointing at John's shirt he was wearing.

"Sure, keep it. It looks better on you than me anyways." He offered a small smile, honesty behind his words. Did he _really _just compliment Sherlock.. on looks? That first beer couldn't come quick enough.

"Thank you!" Sherlock beamed, jumping down from the bed. He switched off the music player, since he hadn't been listening since he noticed John was back anyway, and put it onto the floor as not to sit onto it when he got back. Again.

* * *

It was about time to leave when John spoke again, putting on his jacket, putting his wallet and keys in his jeans pockets. He checked the time on his phone. "Ready to go now?" He offered up a smile to the other.

Sherlock rolled his eyes but nodded, following after the older. He was sooo not looking forward to that..

John walked out, locking the door to 221-B behind them and walked down the corridor, walking out into the colder courtyard. The darkening sky hung above them as they trudged over to the small gathering of people.

"If Anderson tries to talk to me, remember you promised to save me." Sherlock quickly leaned over to the older, whispering into his ear. He ran his eyes over the group, noticing the mentioned male there. Oh my.

* * *

Anderson quirked his eyebrow at the sight of the casual looking Sherlock and was about to open his mouth but John quickly spoke, "Hello there, you all alright?" He smiled.

"Heya mate! You're looking better." Richard stepped out from behind Anderson, pulling the man into the hug. He smiled innocently at Sherlock, holding his hand out. "You alright? Sherlock was it? Nice to meet you properly." Bricksy grinned, the same grin as Jim. The same face, the same voice.

Sherlock bit down a ridiculous laugh as he watched 'Richard'. He shook his offered hand in enthusiasm, smiling widely. "Delighted to meet you, Bricksy." he grinned. "Oh my, Lestrade, they took you out on a walk as well?" he teased softly, peering around Richard to look at the rest of the group.

"Ah, charming as usual." Lestrade rolled his eyes, stepping to engulf him in a bear hug, which Sherlock endured with a whispered 'Piss off.' to the older.

Richard wrapped his arm around Molly with a smile, "This is great, isn't it? The whole gang together!" He laughed gently, smiling down at his girlfriend.

Anderson kept his arms crossed. "Yes yes. Friendship and happiness, all very nice and dandy but are we actually going to set off..?" He sneered, his eyes looking between them all.

"Nice to see you again too, Anderson." John put on his smile, putting his hands in his pockets.

"How'd the date go with Sarah? I told you she was perfect for you didn't I?" Richard grinned at him, his tone playful.

"Went really really great thanks, I owe you big time, mate." John admitted with a slight laugh.

Sherlock finished his whispered conversation with Lestrade, softly nodding into his shoulder before he moved from the hug. He offered his hand to Molly, since he hadn't seen her in a while and she shook it with a smile.

"Sherlock." Molly greeted him from being safely tugged in Richards arms. "How have you been?" she asked, obviously almost skipping with happiness and Sherlock couldn't help but smile. It was nice seeing her this happy, too bad Jim was such a bastard. But oh well. "Bored." Sherlock commented with a smirk, their usual exchange finished.

Lestrade moved to pat John's shoulder in a greeting. "How was your exam, Johnny?" he asked with a grin.

"Alright yeah, thanks Greg." He smiled up at the older man, not mentioning that he couldn't remember it as it would be another waste of a conversation. "Think I did alright. Who knows?" John shrugged with a smile. "How's everything been with you?"

The group started walking down, still in the conversation.

Richard and Molly were behind Sherlock but his eyes occasionally moved to the back of Sherlock's head but his attention was completely on Molly, keeping up the same act he had done for years and years on end.

"You will do fine." Greg bumped his shoulder, throwing his arms around John's shoulders. "Me? I am fine, nothing new.." he shrugged.

Sherlock turned around, giving Lestrade an evil look when the older sent him a smug smile. "What do you study, then, Richard?" Sherlock asked softly when he tore his gaze from Lestrade and _John_.

"Theatrical arts, mainly. I also study Media, English Literature and Medical Health. You could say I'm a busy guy." He laughed. "Ya can call me Bricksy or Brick if you want, most people do." He smiled happily at the taller. "What about you? You take the same stuff as John?"

"No I don't. We are only roommates." Sherlock shrugged, thinking that if he got to meat 'Bricksy' anywhere away from the people, he would call him 'Jim' anyway. "But well.. where do you know these guys from?" he asked, quite curious as to where he met John and Lestrade.

"Oh, me and John go wayyy back. Back into Secondary Scool. Known him for years." He smiled, thinking back to the memories. "Thanks to him I met this lovely young lady here." Richard kissed the top of Molly's head, "Been with Molly for over a year now. Can't see myself with anyone else. Greg, I know through John and yeah." He laughed slightly. "Not really sure who big nose and his girlfriend are."

Sherlock nodded as he thought it over. It was very interesting. Those were new rules.

Molly giggled a bit as she got called a 'young lady', leaning into Richards embrace. Really, he was too sweet. And to think she went out with him just because she wanted to take his mind off of.. someone else.. He was really a god-sent.

Richard smiled gently down at his girlfriend, eyes full of love and affection for her.

* * *

Lestrade threw his arms around John's and Anderson's shoulders, "I wanted to ask - John, you and Sherlock. _What_ is between you two? Like, really, what is _there_?"

John raised an eyebrow Lestrade, "What do you mean by that...? What do you mean by _there_? If you're trying to set me and Sherlock up don't bother. Bricksy's tried hard enough. No."

"I am not trying to set you up with him, quite the contrary. I am only worried. And he _was_ wearing your t-shirt when I met him yesterday morning." Lestrade shrugged it off, eyes lingering on the form of the young male. "Still is, I would say, since he is still wearing my jeans." he chuckled softly.

* * *

Sherlock skipped to open the door, holding it for Molly and 'Richard', so that he could join John and Lestrade without being suspicious once they passed. He followed right after them, narrowing his eyes at Lestrade since he, obviously, was talking about him. Closing the door right before Anderson could enter, he followed the two first to a table.

John shook his head with a small laugh at Lestrade's comment, looking behind him with a small smile at Sherlock before sitting down at the table.

Anderson gave a small indignant huff as he reopened the door, walking in before Sally and following the group.


	11. Alcohol and Gossip

**Title: Of Rats and Men**

**Chapter: Alcohol and Gossip**

**Place: Pub**

**Characters: John Watson; Sherlock Holmes; Richard Brooks/Jim Moriarty; Molly Hooper; Anderson; Gregory Lestrade; Sally Donovan**

**Mood: Curious; Irritated; Friendly**

**Warnings: None. Probably.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

Richard smiled a thanks as Sherlock held the door open for them and he took Molly's jacket off for her with a timid chuckle. "You hungry?"

"Not really, no." Molly piped up with a smile, sliding to sit on the bench next to John.

Sherlock moved to sit on his other side, but Lestrade beat it to him, tugging onto Sherlock's arm for him to sit down next to him.

"If Anderson sits next to me, I am pouring your drink down your shirt." Sherlock warned the older with a glare. He really wanted to sit next to John. Well, Lestrade probably knew that, Sherlock decided as he watched the older give him a raised eyebrow.

Richard laughed, sitting down next to Molly. Anderson sat opposite with Sally, still in a slight mood.

John rubbed his forehead, somehow hoping that would fight off his fever slightly.

"So, what do you study, Sherlock?" Richard inquired with a small smile.

Sherlock shrugged, not really in the mood to answer - at least until Lestrade poked him. He gave him a glare, looking back at Richard with polite smile. "Linguistics." he offered.

Lestrade chuckled to himself as he patted Sherlock's hair. "Stop that." Sherlock snapped at him silently, moving a bit away from the older.

"Don't be a jerk, Sherlock." Lestrade rolled his eyes, throwing an arm around his shoulders to keep him from bolting away. "Socialize." he smirked at him, making Sherlock want to bite him or kick him.

Molly giggled into her palm silently, moving so that she could lay her head onto Richards shoulder. She was happy with just watching the others interact.

John watched, surprised at the amount of control Lestrade had over Sherlock, almost making him seem human. Kinda like a master over a dog. A very annoying and smartarse dog. John chuckled slightly to himself, taking his jacket off to trying to relieve some of the heat.

"Linguistics? Wow! So I'm guessin' you're like a really smart guy huh?" Richard smiled down at Molly, laughing gently. "Can you get any more adorable?"

"I am not adorable." Molly grinned up at him, poking his stomach. "Nope, not adorable." she stuck out her tongue at him, eyes lit up with amusement. She watched as the waiter came to ask for their orders, ordering herself a green tea.

Sherlock sighed in defeat as he realized he will spend the rest of the evening tugged against Lestrade, shrugging his coat off as well. He rolled his eyes when Lestrade gave him an amused look, as he was still wearing John's shirt and Greg's jeans.

"It will be beer for me and cola for this guy." Lestrade grinned at the waiter, patting Sherlock's shoulders. The younger gave him an evil look. "I am not a kid, you know." he muttered to him.

"Nope, of course not. But we don't want you getting drunk, again." Lestrade shot back at him amused.

Richard ordered himself an earl grey tea, kissing Molly's cheek gently. "You are adorable Miss Hooper." He laughed. "Saying otherwise would be a huuge lie." He grinned, brushing a piece of hair out of her face fondly.

John got a beer as well, looking at Lestrade with a bemused smile, "This guy got drunk?"

Molly just chuckled into his shoulder, feeling happy for once. If a bit tired, but tugged safely in Richard's arms she felt content.

Lestrade lightly smacked the back of Sherlock's head when the younger muttered rude comment under his breath, looking down at him fondly. He was still a bit taller than Sherlock, thanks god. Not for long, he was sure. "Well, I got him - and myself - intoxicated once. It ended a bit.. ah funny." Lestrade commented, red dusting his cheeks a bit.

"Ah, yeah. I've heard about that uhh..funny." He chuckled with a smile. "I'm guessing that's why you still own Lestrade's trousers?" John raised an eyebrow at them both.

Sherlock rolled his eyes at him, reaching to get a hold of Greg's beer when the waiter brought them their orders. He took a sip, smirking smugly up at the older. He didn't like beer, but if it would get him a rise out from Lestrade..

The older just shook his head at him, moving to turn his head towards John. "Well, no. He just likes stealing clothes from me. Has about five shirts of mine somewhere." Greg rolled his eyes fondly. "And now he has one of yours as well. How fun." he noted, soft frown creasing his forehead as he thought back about the looks Sherlock kept on giving John. If he knew Sherlock - and he thought he did - the younger was in a deep shit. He tightened his arm around Sherlock's shoulders, as if that would help him from getting hurt.

Molly reached to take a sip of her tea, letting her eyes flutter close with a wide smile. She listened to the conversation, happily embraced by the warmth radiating from her boyfriend.

"I don't mind it if he wants to nick my shirts. I kinda just revolve around 3 or 4." John laughed gently, reaching for his own beer and holding it to his head to cool him down. "Turning into bit of a kleptomaniac, Sherlock." He took a drink, looking over his glass at him.

Sherlock rolled his eyes again, quite content with not answering. He had lot on his mind - and though he really should think about Jim aka Richard aka whoever else, his eyes kept on flicking towards John. A fact that didn't go unnoticed by Lestrade, though he didn't comment on it. Yet.

Molly turned to John when she noticed Richard watching Sherlock intently, guessing that he either was curious about him, or wanted to ask a question. That was fine. She had a question for John. "John?" she started softly, catching his attention. "I heard you went out with Sarah, what is she like? I only met her once.." she frowned a bit, remembering the girl acted rather snobbish back than.

"Oh Sarah?" John's face fell into a big smile. "Brilliant! She's so clever and funny and pretty. She's kinda perfect. Well, I've only met her the once but that was my first impression of her. Bricksy knows her, do you?" He asked with a smile, his attention on her.

"As I said, I met her once." Molly shrugged, though she smiled. "So are you two meeting again?" she leaned onto her palm a bit closer to John, quite curious. Maybe she judged the girl wrong, or maybe she was different when dealing with John.

Lestrade - noticing everyone's attention was diverted away from him and Sherlock as Anderson was exchanging some words with Donovan and John, Molly and Bricksy were concentrating on John's new relationship - turned to Sherlock, dropping his voice silent enough for only Sherlock to hear him. "I thought you were smart enough not to fall for a straight man.." he muttered, moving to run his fingers trough Sherlock's hair soothingly.

The younger just shrugged. "Too late for that, isn't it." he muttered just as silently back.

"Ah I see." John smiled. "Hopefully, she's got exams but when they're over I'll ask her out again. I really had a good time with her." He took a sip of the beer, taking it off his head. "I really think this one could work out."

Richard smiled brightly at that, "Good man. I told you that this one would be good, perfect matchmaker I am. Still, if this falls through, you still have Holmes." He grinned playfully at John, who in turn rolled his eyes and downed the rest of his drink, he'd need it if Bricksy was gonna be like that all night.

"Easy there Watson." Richard laughed, sipping his own earl grey, knowing Sherlock would have already deduced his choice of drink - the same he had back at 221-B.

Anderson seemed to ignore the rest, trying to chat up Sally the best he could, but was failing.

Molly smiled widely at John. "You just met today?" she asked with her eyebrows raised. "Just.. just be careful with her, John." she advised softly, hoping it won't end up badly. "And what was it with Sherlock?" she asked confused, looking up at Richard.

Said man was still talking with Lestrade, their voices hushed. "I don't think you are one to talk about who to fall for, though, Lestrade." Sherlock commented a bit sadly.

Lestrade grimaced at that. "I don't fancy your brother, Sherlock." he rolled his eyes.

"You don't?" the younger raised his eyebrows at him. "But you said you liked a Ho-" he froze staring up at the older. "I am sorry." he muttered as an afterthought, wondering if maybe he should leave. "This is so fucked up, isn't it." he looked up at the ceiling, not bothering to lower his voice.

"Yeah, Richard set me up with her." He looked slightly confused, "Why..? Is there something I should know about her?" He looked between Molly and Richard, hoping he hadn't been set up with some secret psycho.

Richard laughed shaking his head, "It's nothing, I've always said that John and Sherlock should get together, since they would seem like a cute cou-"

"For the last time I'm not gay!" John interupted him loudly, causing all the attention to fall on him. He cleared his throat, looking at his empty glass, embarrassed.

"I..It was just a joke, mate." Richard smiled sheepishly as people returned to their conversations.

"Sorry, I ju-" He was cut off by his phone going off, he picked it up and a smile fell on his face. "Sorry, gotta take this. About the auditions." He kissed Molly's cheek before quickly walking out.

Molly looked after him for a moment, before turning back at John with a sigh. "I will finish the tea and go.. he won't come back any time soon, these calls.." she trailed off with a shrug. "About Sarah-" Molly took a sip of her tea, crossing her leg over the other. "I met her once and she.. well, she was quite rude." she frowned a bit. "But I am sure she just had a bad day." the girl smiled, finishing off her tea. She excused herself, leaving few bills to pay for the tea on the table and left.

"Amen to that." Lestrade grinned, taking a long swallow of the beer. He offered the glass to Sherlock who drank a bit as well. "But if you are drunk, I am not letting you anywhere without my supervision." the older teased, eyes flicking towards John.

"Contrary to popular belief, Lestrade, I am not an idiot." Sherlock shot back, setting the glass back down.

John nodded, muttering a goodbye before stopping the waiter and ordering another beer, looking at anyone else incase they wanted anything. Bricksy did go off quite a lot after phone calls, they could be at a club together and have to leave John alone and leave. Always to do with acting. It was good he was getting all these jobs, but he felt slightly sorry for Molly.

John's attention turned to Lestrade and Sherlock, as the couple next to him were now gone. Sarah surely wasn't rude? Molly was just overreacting, she was too kind.

"Though I am not sure your supervision would stop me from doing anything stupid." Sherlock smirked up at him, continuing where they left before they said their goodbyes to Molly.

"Sherlock Holmes and doing something stupid?" Lestrade teased back, looking horrified. "Surely the world must be ending!" he stole Sherlock's phrase, earning himself a glare.

"I mean - the last time you decided to help me get home safely, you ended up not going home at all." Sherlock's smirk only widened as he poked fun of the older.

John laughed, throwing back his second drink. "What's Sherlock like when drunk, Greg? Is he an emotional wreck like Bricksy?" He smiled, imagining the sight of the emotionally stifled Holmes sobbing hysterically, clinging onto Greg.

Greg turned to face the medicine student, eyes lingering on smug looking Sherlock a moment longer, as if having difficulties diverting his attention elsewhere. "No. He is.. Well.. That's very difficult to explain." he shrugged, light rose dusting his cheeks again.

Sherlock used the moment of Lestrade's distraction to swap their drinks, taking a long swing of the beer again. Not that he wanted to get drunk. Well, maybe he did. That way he won't have to think.

"I'm guessing he loses his inhibitions? Since you two shagged last time he got drunk?" He laughed, asking him questioningly as he finished the rest of his beer, not really realising how fast he was drinking them. Looking at the bottom of his bottle with dissapointment, he ordered another.

"Oh my, how interestingly put." Sherlock rolled his eyes, muffling his laughter as Lestrade took a long swallow of his cola, the surprised and disgusted look on his face quite amusing the younger.

"How funny." Lestrade commented to him dryly, before turning back to John, leaving Sherlock to amuse himself. "You should slow down, mate. I don't fancy having to carry the two of you home. And while drunk Sherlock is at least fun, you would be just bothersome." he grinned, swapping his beer back, only to realise the glass was empty. "Sherlock." Lestrade started slowly, looking back at him.

"Yes, Greg?" Sherlock smirked at him smugly.

"I am going to kill you one day, you know." he muttered, ordering another drink.

"Oh right!" John giggled slightly, feeling the effects of the alcohol slightly. "Sorry, I'll slow down. I'll have you know I can hold my drink, just cuz you can't maybe, Greggy. Doesn't mean I can't." He grinned at the two, laughing. "Very sneaky there Sherlock. You will make a good police man. Both of you." He patted Greg's shoulder merrily.

Anderson rolled his eyes in annoyance, maybe he should just leave. These people weren't worth his time.

"You are already getting intoxicated, Watson." Sherlock scoffed at him, sipping his cola. It was awfully sweet.

"Stop being a jerk, Sherlock." Lestrade sent him a scowl, tightening the hold he had around Sherlock's shoulders in warning.

John laughed, "Bullshit, Sherlock. I can hold my drink. And I know my limits. I am not intoxicated in the slightest!" He smiled, sipping his drink to prove a point. "He's always a jerk, he can't help it." John shrugged.

Sherlock sighed, finishing his cola. "You just called Lestrade "Greggy", I don't think that's something a sober man would do." Sherlock grimaced. "Maybe I should go.." he muttered towards Lestrade, who was muffling his laughter into the empty glass.

"I call him that all the time, don't be a spoil sport and leave, Sherlock. You said you would stay." He smiled at the man, blinking hopefully at him.

Sherlock gave him a long look, sighing as his decision flew out of the window. "I am not sure if I want to deal with you drunk, Watson." he explained, eyes locked with John's.

"I am sure he won't do anything.. weird." Lestrade patted Sherlock's shoulder with a grin. "I have seen him drink countless of times before."

"I'll be on my best behavior, Holmes. To be honest, I need a few drinks after the day I've bloody had. Oh by the way, I looked up Vivaldi Some good songs there. Four seasons is a good'n. Catchy tune." He smiled brightly, leaving his beer alone for now.

Sherlock gave him a blank look, torn between laughing madly at the older's comment about Vivaldi, or scream and bang his head against the table, hoping that maybe decreasing his intelligence would somehow help him understand. He opted for "I see..", fingers playing with the hem of his shirt.

Lestrade watched it with amusement. "Sherlock got you on Vivaldi? Wouldn't expect that.. he got me hooked earlier.. but I thought you would be more of a sucker for metal or something.." he shrugged.

Hi there :) Enjoying the evening out? Say hi to Bri from me. SS

"Oh god, don't get me wrong." John grinned, "I think the Italian bloke is good but I love metal. AC/DC, Ramms+ein, Avenged Sevenfold, Smashing Pumpkins, Askin', BvB. All good stuff." He listed off on his fingers with a smile. "Can't get enough of it." John looked at his phone and giggled slightly at the message.

Heyy there Sarah! Evnins goin well! Hru? Good i hope. Bri's left already. :) xx JW

Sherlock sent an ugly look at the phone, frowning deeply, but didn't comment. So what if John decided to talk to his girlfriend instead of them.. It wasn't that he cared.

"That's only because you haven't heard him play." Lestrade grinned, pointing at Sherlock with his thumb. "You would fall, for sure." he smiled widely. "And no texting, Johnny, dear." he snatched the phone from John's hands, tugging it safely into his own pocket.

Finished studying for tdy, gt sleep. Left? Wow, erly.. Well, love to all and all tht. ;) SS

"I'd love to hear him pl-" John reached for his phone, "Hey! Give it back!" He didn't struggle for it much, huffing and taking a drink of his beer. "I'm sure he plays very well. I can play an instrument too. Play the bugle." John shrugged, laughing.

Lestrade jumped a bit when he felt John's phone signal another message, but didn't give it back.

"You two are aware I am about two millimeters from you and can hear every word you say?" Sherlock commented, fed up with the 'he'. Though he didn't tear his gaze from Lestrade, watching him as he would watch an interesting kind of poison, all fascination and scientific adoration.

Lestrade grinned, noticing the irritation of the youngest, and carried on as if Sherlock didn't say anything just to spite him. "I mean - he was such a scrawny thing, bullied by his big bro.. and then he caught his violin.." he shrugged, as if that explained everything. "An angel." Lestrade grinned a bit sheepishly.

"Awwwwh!" John giggled, "You got it baaaad for him don't you? An /angel?/ You two should be together. You seem nice and happy together. You two go and make clever babies." He couldn't help, for some reason feel a little jealous of Lestrade's relationship with Sherlock. He didn't know why though. Must just be the alcohol talking. "Sherlock's gay right? And you and him have done it before. You should make it official. I can hear weddin' bells already. Mozletoff and stuff."

Sherlock scoffed at him, irritated for no reason at all. "Don't be ridiculous, Watson." he spat, moving to disentangle himself from beneath Lestrade's arm, walking towards the bar to order himself a beer and white tea. Not that he couldn't wait for the waiter, he just didn't want to sit there, listen to Watson make assumptions about him and Lestrade. It was bloody irritating.

Greg watched him go, guessing the reason behind his sudden departure, but didn't offer to share the information with John. He fished John's phone from his pocket, handing it to the other. "You got a message about minute ago." he announced calmly, taking a big swallow of his beer.

John took the phone and shoved it in his pocket. "'S alright. I'll reply later. Why's he in such a mood? He pms'ing or summin? Did I offend his little socks? Aww." He rolled his eyes with an indignant huff as he finished his beer. "Why's he bein' all like that?"

Lestrade snorted at that, taking a sip himself. "He's in love, poor fellow." he commented into the glass, his eyes trained on the youngest male. "And not with me, if you wanted to ask." he added with a look at John.

"Love?" John scoffed, looking at the man in disbelief. "I think you're the one who might have had a bit too many. Who the bloody hell is Sherlock in love with? Molly? Richard? ..Anderson? Nah that one's stupid."He laughed slightly, while Anderson gave him an insulted sneer.

"You can't think I would tell you, right?" Lestrade raised his eyebrows at him. "You can ask him if you feel the need to know. But hey, talking about love." he suddenly grinned, leaning to John over the table. "How was Sarah?" Greg wiggled his eyebrows.

"Whyyyy..." John groaned like a child, giggling. "Please tell me! C'mon Greggy. I won't tell a soul! Sherlock won't tell me anything.." He smiled, spinning his finger around the top of his bottle. "Sarah was great! She's so fit and funny and smart and flirty and stuff. Hope she won't get bored of me."

"She won't." Greg grinned. "But if you don't stop giggling, she will possibly adopt you instead of date you." he teased. "As for Sherlock.." he grew more serious again, tapping his fingers against the wooden table. "One - I never said it's someone you know, two - he trusted me with the information so I am not going to share it and, three - I don't really want to talk about Sherlock's love life, if you get me."

"I don't wanna be friend-zoned. /Again/." John stated with a small smile before laughing. "Is it Jim?" He inquired, "He came over yesterday and Sherlock called him a friend. D'you know him?" John had to admit he was more than curious about Sherlock's mystery love interest. "You reaaally love him, don'tcha?" He patted Lestrade's back lazily in support. "You'll be OK."

"I got friend-zoned. And can you see me complaining?" Greg laughed. "Jim? No, I haven't heard about any Jim from Sherlock.. But no, and stop guessing." he frowned sternly at him, though his lips kept on twitching into smile. "But if Sherlock called him a friend, well, he must be special."

"Awhh.. You'll find love soon, m'boy! What about Mycroft? He's a Holmes. He's a tosser but so's Sherlock. At least Sherlock is a nice looking tosser. Maybe you could make him into a nice guy?" He shrugged, sighing happily before face turning serious. "Wait! You think Jim is special to Sherlock? Like his boyfriend? He did come over to study.. and Sherlock never needs to study! D'you think this is like his secret lover or something? Why is he hiding this? Is he in love with him?" His words came out very fast and almost desperate, like a child pleading. He didn't understand why he felt this way. Felt so jealous about Sherlock. He liked Sarah. He liked girls. Sherlock was a twat.. right?

Lestrade threw his head back at the first part of the sentence and laughed hard. "Mycroft.." he repeated, grinning wide enough to eat banana sideways. "I punched him, did you know?" he chuckled again, mirth dancing in his eyes. "Sherlock is.. well, he is a nice guy, doesn't show it, though." Lestrade grew serious again, running his fingers over his eyes tiredly. "I think he is special. Sherlock doesn't have friends, that's not how he works." he shrugged. "As for what exactly Jim is, I don't know. Ask him." he nodded towards Sherlock, who started making his way back to them, a steaming mug and glass of beer in his hands.

"Sherlock!" John sat up properly when the taller joined them. "What d'you think of Jim? Is he your boyfriend..? Your friend huh? Why don't you talk about him?" John's voice was verging on sounding like a drunk nagging wife, demanding where their husband had been after dark. "Lestrade said you are in love with someone but won't tell me who! 'Fess up, mate! We all know y' like Greggy boy." He smiled proudly, as if he had cracked some case. He was well and truly feeling the effects to the alcohol.

Sherlock moved to sit back next to Lestrade, though not close enough to touch, and laid the tea in front of himself and the beer in front of the older. His eyes flicked to John for a beat, before he turned to give confused look to Lestrade. "Why would you-" he raised his eyebrows.

Lestrade tried to look sheepish but failed. "Kept on asking." he shrugged, nodding towards John.

"I see.." Sherlock nodded, moving his attention to John as Lestrade sipped the beer slowly, since it was cold. "Jim? I don't talk about him because there is nothing to talk about." he shrugged.

"Oh Ok." John smiled, happy with that answer. Very happy infact. "Soooo... who do you like then? Molly? Richard? Lestrade? Come onnn! You gotta tell me, we've been living together for ages and you don't even speak to me much. At least tell me who you like." He blinked puppy dog eyes at him, smile widening as he spoke.

Lestrade was looking at Sherlock still, not ready to let the topic of Jim go that easily. It was quite worrisome that he never even heard about that guy and yet, Sherlock used his fist name. He never did that. Lestrade decided to ask him a bit later when Anderson (and possibly John as well) wasn't paying attention.

"I don't like anyone." Sherlock answered calmly. "Lestrade was 'pulling your leg'." he quoted a saying he heard John use once, and leaned back against the wall, taking a sip of the warm liquid he brought from the bar. It was brilliant and bitter sweet and warm and soothing.

"Okie dokie~! Whatever you say, dear!" John laughed in a singsong voice, not believing his dormmate but shrugged it off, dropping the subject as he ordered another drink, a cola this time. He wanted to remember this night, as he had forgotten most of his day and he didn't want a hangover tomorrow

"I would greatly appreciate if you never called me 'dear' again, Watson." Sherlock rolled his eyes. He kicked Lestrade's shin beneath the table when the older laughed at him.

"Hurts." Lestrade stuck out his tongue at Sherlock, but his eyes were lit up with mirth. He leaned to tug Sherlock back against his side, arm curling around the younger's waist.

John sipped his coke, not looking at the other two. Jealousy. That was definitely the word that was filling up inside him. The way Lestrade and Sherlock were getting along.. he couldn't help it. He didn't understand why he was getting all worked up over it. He had never shown or had any inclination to be with Sherlock but.. seeing him with another person like that. That was what clicked inside of him. "I'm going to the bathroom, won't be long." He walked off quickly, feeling like he was going to throw up anyways, he just needed to be out of that environment.

Anderson rolled their eyes at the two of them, "For heaven's sake, will you both act your age?"

"As we are both young, I think we are acting our age." Sherlock commented dryly to him.

Lestrade softly smiled, tapping Sherlock's chin to get his attention. "One question, Sherlock, if you may."

"Well, I think you're both acting like little school girls. Thank you for this 'fun' night, but I've got more important things to be getting on with." He stood up, putting the money down for his and Sally's drinks before heading out with her.

John splashed cold water on his face in the sink, looking at his reflection with a slight sigh. Of course Sherlock wouldn't like him. Lestrade was strapping and witty and fun. Watson was boring and dull and drunk. He sighed, having thrown up a couple a minutes ago and had cleaned himself off. He left when he started getting weird looks from a man much older than himself and joined Lestrade and Sherlock. "Where's big nose?"

"Left about ten minutes ago." Lestrade started, the tension between him and Sherlock after their 'argument' easing a bit, enough for John not to notice.

Sherlock snorted a bit, adding his own: "He is going to try to get and persuade Donovan not to leave him, and needed to be alone for that. That's why they left while you were passionately getting to know the toilet."

"Oh right, ok. I'd leave him if I were her. Total tosser, he is. Not worth her time." John took a drink of his coke, putting his head down on the table in a pitiful attempt to cool himself down. "What you guys been talking about then? Or have you just been making out or something stupid?"

"Lestrade felt the need to keep asking me as to what my relationship with Jim is." Sherlock announced calmly, taking a large gulp of Greg's beer before the older could stop him.

"So? I was curious." Lestrade defended himself.

"I'm curious about it too! How did you two meet? Why did he really come round? Want the whole details!" He smiled, though he looked slightly ill. "You don't have to say anything, obviously but still..."

"I am sure you don't want all of the details." Sherlock smirked at him smugly, earning a kick to his shin from Lestrade. "But basically, when we first met, we were friends." he grinned more widely. "When we met for the second time, we were.. well, lovers. When we met for the third time, we were I would say rivals and when we will meet for the next time, well.. That would be interesting." he smiled gleefully.

Friends? Lovers? These were all words John never expected to come out of Sherlock's mouth. "Huh? When were these times then? I'm really confused. Since when do people have rivals?"

"Is there anything wrong with having a rival, Watson?" Sherlock raised his eyebrows at him, which got him a snort from the oldest. "And about the times - first time was when I retreated into a library after we argued, second time was the next day - you should still remember it and as for the third.." he hesitated for a moment, realizing that if he said 'today', John would know he wasn't anywhere but in the pub. "I would rather not answer that. Any other question?"

"Nope. Nothing wrong. So you were lovers when he came over? You didn't do anything on my bed did you? I have to sleep there y'know." He complained halfheartedly with a slight smile. "One more question! Who iss it that you like? Come onnn is it Jim?"

Sherlock curled in on himself, overcame by giggles for a moment. "No, Watson, we didn't do anything on your bed." he answered calmly.

Lestrade grinned a bit, reaching to taste Sherlock's tea. He sipped the yellowish liquid deciding that no, he wasn't that much fun of teas.

"I would bloody well hope not." He grinned, sipping his coke. "Sooo... You're avoiding my question! Whooo do you like?" John kept his eye trained on Sherlock.

Richard walked back in, putting his phone in his pocket. "Where'd everyone go..? Oh, did Molly leave then?" He looked at the table, confused.

Sherlock turned up at the male, deciding that it was funny to watch Watson try to get the answer out of him, and slightly smiled. "Everyone ran away. Molly right after you left to your.. call." he gave him a lopsided smile, locking their eyes together. He seriously doubted the call was about acting and intended to let Jim know.

"And Anderson with Donovan left soon after, so it's only us. You gonna join us, or you need to run?" Lestrade raised his eyebrows at him.

"Aww really?" Richard sighed with a smile. "I'll head back to Molly, make sure she's alright and stuff. Seeya guys later." He nodded to them but his eyes were stuck on Sherlock before he turned around and left.

"Seeya later, mate." John looked up with a small smile before looking back at Sherlock.

"I am sure we will meet again one day." Sherlock grinned, watching after the male till he closed the door after him, and even after that his eyes remained trained on the door for a moment.

Lestrade shouted his own goodbye, waving at Richard.

John noticed Sherlock's prolonged look at Richard and frowned. "Come on! I'm not letting this drop! Who. Do. You. Like?"

"Like I already told you, Watson, I don't like anyone. I had from reliable source that I don't have a heart." he announced calmly, though his forehead was creased by a frown. He would have to re-think all he had on Jim.

"I think anatomically speaking, that's not true." He sighed, giving up and resting his head on the table. "Shhame too. You're nott too bad lookin. For a tosser." John remarked casually, feeling the full effects of the alcohol loosen his tongue

"Oh my, Watson. Was that a compliment?" Sherlock drawled, leaning onto the table.

Lestrade snorted softly, finishing his beer. He noticed John's cola was almost gone and Sherlock had drank the rest of his tea as well. "Well, kids, what about I take you back home now?"

"Sure.. I think this night is kinda dead and buried anyways." He smiled, sitting up, his eyes locking with Sherlock's for a moment before standing up and pulling his wallet out to pay for his drinks.

"Leave that, kiddo." Lestrade grinned, moving to the bar to pay. "Meet you outside, too hot here." he waved them both off, leaning against the counter to wait for the waitress to notice him.

Sherlock shrugged and moved to put his coat on. Walking towards the door out he looked back to see if John was following, tapping his feet impatiently.

"S'ankss mate." He smiled clumsily, putting his wallet away and followed Sherlock, giving him a grin. He leaned on him slightly for support, giggling. "You inviting Jimmy over tomorrow?"

"No. Might show up, though." Sherlock tensed a bit, hoping that Jim actually won't. He stepped a bit away from John to get some space between them, slipping out into the cool evening. Leaning against the wall next to the pub entrance, Sherlock reached into his pocket to put a cigarette in between his lips and lit it up, blowing the smoke up in thoughts.

John coughed a little, peering a the cancer stick. "That'll kill you one day Shherlock. You really shouldn't smoke." His rational thought was well away from him now.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, blowing the next mouthful of smoke straight over John's face with a smirk.

Lestrade jogged to them, feeling the cold crawling over his skin as he had only a sweatshirt on. "Ready to go, guys?" he gazed in disgust at the cigarette Sherlock was smoking. "I thought you said you will stop."

John coughed in irritation, moving away. When he sobered up, he would go through the dorm and get rid of all of the others cigarettes. "All ready to go!"

Lestrade gave him a grin, moving in between the two and slung his arms around both of their shoulders.

Sherlock chuckled, taking a deep breath of the smoke. "I did. Say I would stop, I mean. To my brother. I lie to my brother." he grinned up at the oldest as they all moved towards the campus.

John giggled. "He said he'd pay me to spy on youuu! Give him info. I said no." He laughed, clutching onto Greg.

Sherlock looked down at him curiously, taking a drag of the cigarette. "Did you.." he muttered, soft genuine smile appearing on his lips. John hadn't known him and yet, yet he would refuse his brother's offer?

"Good boy." Lestrade grinned, patting John's shoulder in appreciation.

"Bastard said he'd give me 5 grand. Nah. Not selling out my roomie for all the crown jewels and a snog from Natalie Portman." John laughed, looking at the taller with a smile.

"At least I am not the only one taking care of you." Lestrade chuckled. "But yeah, guys. This is where I leave you!" he announced in front of the door to their dorm building, as he had his dorm in another one. He leaned down a bit to press kiss into Sherlock's curls, patting John's back as he passed him and walked into the darkness.


	12. Drunken Nights

**Title: Of Rats and Men**

**Chapter: Drunken Nights**

**Place: Dorm and Outside**

**Characters: John Watson; Sherlock Holmes**

**Mood: Desperate; Hot; Greedy**

**Warnings: Lots. Drunk people and sex. **

**Enjoy.**

* * *

Sherlock moved to walk trough the door inside, decidedly not commenting on Lestrade, and unbuttoned his coat when the temperature inside was quite high, compared to the bellow zero from outside.

"Night Greg!" John called as he headed down the corridor and closed the door behind him with a smile, he giggled slightly, falling back onto his bed. "Fun night?"

Sherlock nodded a bit hesitantly, getting rid of the jeans and shoes to crawl beneath his covers. Not that he thought he would be able to sleep, but he was tired and cold. And had lot of things to think about.

"Goood." John smiled over at him. "Are you everr going t' tell me who you like or not then, Sherlock?" He asked, watching him upside down.

"I told you I don't like anyone." Sherlock lied with a roll of his eyes, tugging his palms beneath his chin. He closed his eyes and ran trough the information he had on Jim. The thing bothering him the most, though, was the long back dated friendship between 'Jim' and John. Why?

"Shherlock." John called out to him. "Shheerlock. Whattya doing?" He laughed slightly, his words slurred. "Whatcha thinking about?"

Sherlock breathed a deep sigh, when he realized he won't be able to think in peace at least until John is asleep and gave up. It was easier said than done, though, as his mind wouldn't stop swirling.

"What do you do, when you need to stop thinking?" he sat up, looking at the older curiously.

"Do something fun." John shrugged. "Have sex? Go on dates? Read? Watch tv?" He listed on his things with a smile, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Are you offering?" Sherlock laughed hard, tossing his head back. "And I need to stop thinking, not find something else to think about, like books or movies.." he trailed off with a shrug when he calmed down from the fit of his laughter.

"Sssure!" John laughed, going into a fit of laughter with him. "You could go on a walk? I do that when I need to ssstop thinking!" He closed his eyes with a smile.

Sherlock shook his head in amusement. "How long till you fall asleep, Watson?" he asked with a grin. "Because it's cold outside and I am not going anywhere. And I really, really need to think about things." he grinned, feeling a bit intoxicated himself now that he was in warm environment.

"You jus' said you don't wanna think about thhings right? Then don't! Poof! There! Magic. Ssstop thinking and just do. Be sstupid for once, lord knows it's bloody hardd for you to do." He laughed again, reopening his eyes to look at the other.

Sherlock clutched his head between his palms, trying to stop the thoughts, images, memories and facts from appearing and blurring into each other. "I can't.." he whimpered softly, wave of nausea hitting him. Bad idea drinking beer not even two days after having my head hit open.

John got off his bed clumsily with a giggle and climbed onto Sherlock's bed, straddling him. "Shhhh! Stop thinking! Kay? Stop thinking." He laughed, really having no idea where he was going with this.

Sherlock breathed deeply in and out, closing his eyes. "Maybe, though, you should try to actually do some thinking for once." he commented bitingly, trying to push the older off of him."

Thinking's boring and I'm pissed." John laughed again, smiling down at him, not budging. "I'm sssorry I've been such a douche all these timess I've lived with you."

"Oh my.." Sherlock ran his palm over his eyes, giving up his attempt to make Watson move away. "You should really, really think sometimes. And now get off."

"Make me." John grinned, his face right up and close to Sherlock's. he moved away to laugh, resting his head on Sherlock's chest. "You really are boring sometimes. Alll youu doo is think. And breatthe and cheekbones"

"It's not that I mind you pushing me into my bed, it's just that you obviously don't get how could I decide to understand it." Sherlock muttered, but couldn't resist to trail his fingers down John's jaw and the side of his neck, until he let them rest on the older male's shoulders.

"Enlighten me Holmess." He grinned looking up at him, running a hand through Sherlock's hair softly, for a drunk.

Sherlock leaned his head into the touch, eyes fluttering close. Why was it that now when he actually needed his brain, it shut down? That honestly wasn't fair. "I am sure you can deduce that, Watson.." he muttered softly. "And if I heard you right - and I think whole Uni heard you right today - you aren't gay."

"People lie." John looked him in the eyes with a smile, repeating the phrase Sherlock had said to him many times. He moved up, bringing his lips to Sherlock's own and kissed him. The kiss, on John's half was cautious and shy at first but then eager and excited.

Sneaking his arms tightly around John's neck, Sherlock couldn't quite bring himself to push him away. So what if there will be a hell to pay in the morning. He parted his lips letting John take control, his eyes screwed shut.

This wasn't too different, from kissing a girl. Sherlock's lips were surprisingly soft. He had expected it to be a foreign feeling, an alien one but..it wasn't. John deepened the kiss, tugging playfully on Sherlock's hair as he did so.

Sherlock muffled the moan by biting down onto John's lip, shiver running up and down his spine. Even with his brain half-shut down, he realized that a) Lestrade will kill him in the morning if he ever tells him the older had been right; b) John will possibly kill him first when he wakes up from his drunken haze; c) he was really in a deep shit; d) John was warm and solid as he pressed against him, his scent intoxicating, making him dizzy for completely different reasons.

John laughed gently, encouraged by the noise Sherlock made. He kissed the side of his mouth playfully, running his free hand under the back of the band shirt Sherlock had now claimed for his own. He kissed Sherlock again, enjoying the feeling of his body pressed against the others. It was new, it was different. John didn't mind though, everything in a blurry haze as the alcohol numbed his brain and lifted his spirits.

With a grin, Sherlock wondered how far would John actually take it, as he moved to sit back onto his heel and tugged the shirt over his head. He looked at John expectantly, moving back so that he was almost in his lap, lips millimeters from John's. He waited for the older to either kiss him or push him away, nervous grin curling his lips upward.

John returned the grin, chuckling slightly as he wrapped his arms around the other, one arm snaking up again to Sherlock's hair. The curls too tempting to say no too. He kissed Sherlock again, surprisingly almost desperate this time. He pressed himself against Sherlock's bare chest, feeling his pulse beating underneath. He did have a heart, people do lie.

Sherlock felt his heartbeat grew faster, almost rapid, and clawed his fingers into John's shoulders for support, since the older was playing with his hair again. He liked having people touch his hair. Sherlock leaned his head onto John's shoulder, panting, and moved to open his eyes to look up at him.

He looked down at the younger, surprised by his reaction and realized he wasn't sure what to do. Letting the alcohol take over, he grinned and pushed Sherlock down so he was against the bed again. He kissed the man again, then ran desperate kisses down his chest. He wanted him, he wanted to hear him again. John tugged on Sherlock's hair again with a slight laugh. "Thisss able to disstract you enuff from your thoughtss?"

"Yes.." Sherlock breathed out, moving his hand to the back of John's head to bring him down, connecting their lips again. He nibbled onto the older's lower lip, tasting him again and again, unable to get enough. "This is helping quite nicely." he muttered, surprising even himself by how coherent he still sounded. Surely that was weird, when he felt his cheeks flushed violent red and heart pacing loud enough for John to hear - at least judging by the way it felt.

"Good.." He whispered, his voice lower, more husky than usual. John kissed Sherlock again and again, enjoying the new phenomena, never thinking he'd get sick of it. He dug his fingers slightly into Sherlock's shoulders, taking in the scent of his room mate with a smile. "I want you Shherlock.." He kissed him again, passionately and eagerly, encouraged by Sherlock's and his own pounding heart.

Sherlock chuckled at that, crossing his wrists behind John's neck, and looked up with a smile. "Well than, I am sure you know what to do." he murmured softly, moving his legs so that John was pressing down against him in between them. He ran his fingers trough John's short hair, just because he now could. For few hours. It was addicting, as was John's warmth and the weigh pressing Sherlock down.

John couldn't help but grin, taking his own shirt off before leaning down to kiss him again, shuddering at the feel of Sherlock's skin against his own, loving the feeling of the flushed chest against his own and he grinded down on Sherlock involuntarily, laughing slightly. "I don't knoww howw." He smiled, speaking as he kissed Sherlock's jaw.

"You will have to figure it out." Sherlock smirked, bucking his hips up to meet John's again, the motion sending sparks and shudders trough his whole body. He ran his eyes down John's chest, unconsciously licking his dry lips. John was hot. He flicked his fingers over John's collarbone, tracing muscles with his nails.

He couldn't help but let out a moan as Sherlock's hips moved against his own. He would go crazy if he didn't have him, he needed him. Nothing else mattered to him at that moment. "Mean.." John whispered as he shivered at the feel of Sherlock's nails against his collar bone, arching his neck slightly.

"Stop me, if you can." Sherlock challenged him, clawing his nails a bit deeper into his skin with a smirk. He rested his other hand on the back of John's neck, feeling his pulse beneath the tips of his finger. Rapid. Just like his. That was good.

"You'd like that..wouldn't you?" He laughed before closing his eyes again involuntarily at the feel of his nails being dug in. He'd have to move now, or he'd go insane. John kissed Sherlock again, more desperate and full on than before. His breathing was heavy as he looked up at the others blurred eyes. "Trousers off..now." He ordered him, smiling again.

Sherlock shuffled to do as he was told, kicking the jeans off. He grinned up at the older challengingly. "Well, what now, doctor?" he asked, moving both his arms over his head to grip at the headboard.

"_Doctor_?" John repeated, almost with a playful growl. He liked that. A lot. John climbed back onto him, kissing his lips as one hand reached down to Sherlock's underwear almost timidly. This was all new to him, very new. But John was also very drunk. He sneaked his hand into Sherlock's pants and took a hold of his member gently, stroking his thumb along it as he kissed the man deeper.

Sherlock bucked up from the bed, back arching, as he parted his lips. He was careful to stay silent, leaving his arms up and fingers curled around the wood. "Well, you are. Almost, I mean." he managed to get out, eyes screwed shut in bliss.

John smiled against Sherlock's lips at his reaction. He loved this. Getting more familiar with him and after being encouraged by the taller's expressions, he put the whole of his hand around Sherlock and moved his hands up and down in familiar movements, not being all too gentle. "I know." He laughed gently, kissing under the other's ear.

The younger had to bite down onto his own lip hard, as not to start moaning or cursing or giving any other clue that he was slowly falling apart. "You know, this way, you aren't getting what you wanted." Sherlock murmured silently, because his voice would shake if he raised it.

"I know.. I want you. I want you badly.. But _this_? This isss interessting." John laughed gently, confessing to Sherlock almost silently. He wasn't sure how to go about it at all, he took off his own trousers, neglecting them lazily and discarded them to the floor. His drunken eyes were hungry for him as his eyes flickered to the perfect body beneath him.

"You know how to make it even more interesting." Sherlock commented in a silent voice, his eyes taking in the sight of John's skin, saving all of the smallest details into his mind. He leaned his head up a bit, licking the skin on John's neck to get a taste; John tasted of beer and sweat and a bit more that made Sherlock's mind swim.

John felt his breath hitch slightly at the feel of Sherlock's tongue against his neck. "Really? You assume I'm that clevver" He whispered as he kissed the man again, just wanting him. Wanting Sherlock's scent to engulf him, his touch, his sound. He moved his hand faster, tightening his grip in an attempt to encourage the younger further.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, moving one of his arms from over his head to grip John's wrist, stopping the movement. "Yes, you are." he muttered softly, tugging John's hand to rest on his lips. He ran his tongue over the digits, arm moving back up and away.

"I thought evveryone was stupid in comparissson to y-" he was cut off by his own small growl from the back of his throat, really not expecting it. John grinned, kissing his lips. "Ok, I think I can worrk thiss out. Like a girl right?"

Sherlock let out another startled laugh. Oh my, was Watson funny. "Almost everyone is stupid in comparison to me, yes.. - but we weren't talking about that." he smirked.

"No..No we're not," John grinned as he removed Sherlock's underwear before quickly removing his own. He chuckled slightly, bringing a kiss to Sherlock's lips again. "I want you now." He growled playfully.

"Then hurry up." Sherlock rolled his eyes impatiently, tugging at John's lower lip with his teeth. He circled his long legs around John's hips.

"Don't roll your eyess at me!" John laughed as he entered Sherlock, none to gently. He let a small groan escape his lips, he had never done anything like this before and was enjoying it. "Bloody hell.."

Sherlock threw his head back letting out a surprised half moan, half scream. It freaking hurt. But he just tightened his legs around John, breathing trough his nose to stay calm.

John looked down at Sherlock, worried. "'Chu okay?" He had never heard Sherlock so emotive, had he done something wrong? John's face flushed red, it was so tight. It felt incredible, he couldn't believe he was actually inside Sherlock.

"Yes, yes, fine." Sherlock mumbled softly, carefully opening his eyes. He noticed John looking at him from close proximity and leaned up to lick his lower lip and grinned. He tried moving his hips against John, his back arching as he gasped again.

John's breath hitched, groaning slightly. He kissed Sherlock as he started to move his hips, slowly at first. He was so tight. This was so different than being with a girl. John let out a small gasp as he moved.

Sherlock bit down onto his lower lip to stop himself from moaning at the contact. It was just too difficult, since it was _John_ pressing him down, taking him, pressing into him. He couldn't find it in himself to close his eyes even when they started to water, staring at the older with all his might.

John moved his hips slightly harder, holding Sherlock down by his shoulders. The drunk man couldn't help but moan a little as he bit gently down on Sherlock's neck.

"Oh my.." Sherlock moaned softly at the sharp pain and pleasure running trough his body and he moved his hips to meet John's shallow thrusts.

Encouraged by Sherlock's moan, John smiled, opening his hazy eyes to look at the younger. He moved slightly faster, desperate for the friction as he let out a breathy moan, feeling his skin flush.

Sherlock smirked as he noticed John watching him and tryingly let out another moan, eyes fluttering halfway closed. His back arched from the bed as his fingers were still tightened around the bed headboard.

John watched him. He was irresistible. Every move, every noise Sherlock made was pure sex to his drunken eyes. He kissed down Sherlock's arched neck as he moved faster, sucking down on the skin, claiming it for his own.

Sherlock gave up all efforts to stay silent by that point, tossing his head left and right at the bed. He pressed his hips desperately up, feeling he was nearing to his release, and moved his arms to circle them around John's neck in desperate attempt to bring him closer.

John pushed his chest against Sherlock's own, feeling his pounding heartbeat against his own. He had never been so close, so intimate with anyone else, sober or otherwise. He moaned as he felt himself close to release, thrusting harder as he dug his nails in more. His breath heavy against Sherlock's neck, he let out a loud moan as he came, feeling Sherlock so close around him.

Sherlock cursed softly and reached his hand down to tighten his fingers around himself, quickly pushing himself over the edge as well. He released his lip from between his teeth when the fog lifted up from his mind, trying hard to get his breathing under control. Opening his eyes, Sherlock watched John, feeling content for once. His mind was clearest it had ever been and he could think. Think and form a plan. He closed his eyes with a sigh, when he decided.

Breathing heavily, John moved to the side, laying next to Sherlock. He gave a small giggle as the euphoria, emphasized by the alcohol washed over him. He turned his head to face Sherlock, not being able to come up with a single slurred word to say.

John felt his tired eyes grow heavy, slowly closing until he could no longer see the blurred younger man beside him. Exhausted, John fell right to sleep, his breathing calming down.


	13. Sleeping, Songs and Promises

**Title: Of Rats and Men**

**Chapter: Sleeping, Songs and Promises**

**Place: The Pool**

**Characters: John Watson; Jim Moriarty; Sherlock Holmes**

**Mood: Friendly; Mysterious; Curious**

**Warnings: None**

* * *

As soon as John fell asleep, Sherlock's phone recieved a text,

**Having fun there, Sherlock?**

The number was new and there was no sign off, no trace of who the texter was.

Sherlock distangled himself out of the bed, moving instantly into the bathroom to at least get himself a bit cleaned. He didn't have the time to take a shower. Moving back towards his bed, he snatched John's pants and trousers from the floor, tugging them onto the softly snoring male. He even pulled his shirt over his head, arranging John onto the pillow and covering him with the blanket.

For a moment Sherlock debated moving the male onto his own bed, but decided against it, since John was _heavy_. He just pressed a kiss onto John's forehead, for a moment just staring at him and breathing him in.

**The pool, 1am. Meet me. -SH**

He sent it onto Brickey's number since he had it remembered and switched his cell off, throwing it onto the table. John wouldn't be able to pass his password. Well, maybe Lestrade would, but he didn't have time to come up with something else.

He neatly folded John's shirt and all of the clothes he stole from Lestrade onto a pile, clothing himself into his usual attire, just adding a gun to press against his lower back.

There. All done. He had - checking John's watch - twenty seven minutes to get into the pool where (if he wasn't mistaken) died Jim's first victim.

Jim looked at the text with a smile. He idly got out of bed, knowing Molly was a heavy sleeper and didn't disturb her. He made his way to the pool unseen, wearing his westwood suit to hopefully impress Sherlock. He kept Sebastion on standby, he knew the signals. He awaited in the shadows of the poolside, hidden, waiting, stalking his prey.

Sherlock sighed and moved into the light, his boots clicking against the tiles and steps echoing around the pool. The water was in, chloride making it difficult to breath deeply. He folded his arms behind his back and waited, feeling eyes on himself; Jim was already there and watching him. He waited.

Jim smiled brightly at the sight of Sherlock. "I'm sooo glad you arranged to see me again. I was getting terribly lonely." He mused, in his distinct voice as he stepped out from the shadows. "Hiii~!" Jim kept his eyes trained on the other.

"Hello, Jim." Sherlock managed a smile himself, not that thrilled to see the other as Jim made it seem he was. He probably wasn't either. "I must say, your Richard was way more fun that the disguise you showed me at first." he mused out loud, moving his hand to twirl a curl of his hair around his finger in thoughts.

"Yeahh," He shrugged, walking around the edge of the pool, his hands in his suit pocket. "I'm glad you like him. I've been working on him for _quite_ some time now. Farrr more fun to play than the other. Ugh. He was so BORING!" Jim blurted out, stopping and staring at Sherlock, his smile and casual tone leaving immediately. He stared at Sherlock for a while before returning to his casual position. "You see. That's my problem. _Our_ Problem, Sherlock."

"What. Boredom?" Sherlock raised his eyebrows. "I think you are probably right, but first I have one question, if I may. It's really important." he trailed off with a serious expression. It really was, to the point of being crucial.

"Ahhh. Go ahead. It's about John isn't it?" A cheeky grin played on his lips, lighting up his whole face as he stepped around the edge of the pool. "Come on then! Let me hear it, the acoustics in here are gorgeous. Let me hear that baritone of yours."

Sherlock watched him walk around, staying right where he was. "Were you the one to send me the Piano Guys and Lindsey Stirling link earlier?" he asked with his head titled sideways, finger tapping at his chin.

"Did you like it?" Jim grinned like a child, hopping on the spot for a few seconds as he asked. "I knew you were into that music so I thought I'd help you out a bit. Dreadfully bored then. Your roommate kept on going onnn and onnn and onn about you and your music tastes." He rolled his eyes, lowering the pitch of his voice.

"It was actually quite brilliant, thank you." Sherlock grinned as well, tipping his head as if to give a bow to him. "Well, _what_ did you want to say anyway?" he raised his eyebrows as he straightened, moving his arms again behind his back.

"Hmm..?" He asked, distracted before grinning. "Oh yeah! Just a warning. Stop getting into John's life. Leave him alone." Jim's smile dropped from his face. "You can't be allowed to continue. You just can't. Not with him. Oh yes. Stop trying to convince Miss Adler to try and eliminate Bassy. He doesn't appriciate it. But mainly." Jim stopped walking, staring at the water below, the ripples reflecting over his face. "I want to solve our problem. It's gonna start very soon Sherlock. The final problem." His gaze returned to the man. "But don't worry: falling's just like flying, except there's a more permanent destination."

"I don't think so.." Sherlock muttered softly, tugging the gun from his trousers to point it straight at Jim's forehead. "Jim - if I may call you that - I am sure 'Bassy' is somewhere around, cuddling with a sniper gun. If I shoot you, we both die right here and right now, and I _will _do it." he spoke softly. "Unless you would agree to an.. agreement." he raised his eyebrows.

"No. I don't think you will~" Jim didn't flinch. "What would you gain from that hmm? Apart from being able to cherish the look of shock on my face." He pulled an over-exagerated look of suprise and horror. "But not for very long. Infact, I'd feel..just a tiny but dissapointed." He smiled again. "You won't shoot me Sherlock. I'm too interesting. I don't make agreements unless you tell me what you'd like me to agree to. _Try_ and make it atleast a little bit INTERESTING."

"Normally, I would be forced to agree with you." he muttered softly. "But the game ends here tonight, because I don't wish to play. Not now." he kept the gun aimed as it was, index finger steady on the trigger. "Don't take me wrong – I _want_ to play you. I do.. But I can't give you my whole attention now, I can't play!" he raised his voice a bit, before sighing. "So it will end tonight.." he dropped his voice lower, regretful. "Come back in... five, six years and I will give it everything. I can't now."

Sherlock titled his head a bit, continuing his rant. "You want this interesting, but it won't be, not now. Come back in few years and it _will _be." he kept his arms raised to aim the gun, eyes boring holes into Jim.

"Hmmm...how..about..NO." Jim matched Sherlock's gaze, his hazel eyes icey cold. "So you're going to be boring? You're going to be ordinary." Jim scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Maybe I've got the wrong guy..You want me to go back to play with the ordinary people...? Turns out YOU'RE ordinary, like all of them! Oh well..." Jim sighed, looking at Sherlock with dissapointment. "Why are you so hellbent on waiting? What could be so important?"

Sherlock grinned at that. "Well, go play with other people than, Jim, if you think that would amuse you." his smirk just grew wider at the thought. "But if you want to play _me_, you will have to wait. Five years to be exact." he tugged the gun back into his trousers, flicking the safety on. "Because I don't really need to kill _you_. Your game needs _two _players, and if you tire out of waiting any time before those five years, I could just finish of the second one. _Me_."

"I'm an impatient man, Sherlock. I don't like to be kept waiting." He put his arms behind his back. "I want my game. I want it NOW!" He grinned at him, like a child. "I'm BORED. I'm sick to death of ordinary people. They're easy. Far too easy. You. You're different." Jim almost started to glare again before stopping still, remembering something with a smirk. "Ohhh..oh ho hoo.." He began to laugh. "Why are you so keen to do it later, if I don't get my game now, give me a legitimate reason."

"I told you - I wouldn't be able to concentrate on it fully. And that would be no fun, wouldn't it. To play against a _distracted _opponent is dull!" he threw his arms up, even the concept of that irritating him. It was so stupid when he played against someone who kept on looking away. Thinking about different things. It was _wrong_.

"And what is it that is distracting your thoughts...?" Jim inqured, genuinely interested. "I think..you may be right." He couldn't help but smile at the prospect of his game, knowing that he'd get it eventually. The anticipation was almost better than the result itself. "The more satisfying the fire will be.." He commented to himself outloud.

"Well than, if we have an agreement, I will take my leave." Sherlock raised his eyebrows and sent Jim a kiss, turning around to walk out of the pool. He honestly didn't like it there. And he had a small trip to make to London before he could get back to his dorm. And to his bed. To face possibly furious/disgusted/any other possibility dormmate. How fun.

Jim caught it in his hand, grinning as though flattered but crushed the invisible kiss in his hand, face turning serious as he walked out, turning on his heel and calling someone on his phone before returning back to Molly's in Richard's usual clothes and fell asleep in her bed without disturbing her.


	14. Case of a Missing Sherlock

**Title: Of Rats and Men**

**Chapter: Case of a Missing Sherlock**

**Place: The Dorm**

**Characters: John Watson; Gregory Lestrade; Sherlock Holmes**

**Mood: Scared; Worried; Nervous**

**Warnings: None**

* * *

Sherlock moved to hitch-hike towards London, drumming his fingers against the gun in his pocket, since that was the only thing he brought along. Wide grin was on his face - he had a lot to look forward in five years, didn't he.. Not in the next ten hours or something, that would be just a dirty work. Too bad that returning to the dorm didn't sound much better, either.

* * *

John awoke sleepily the next morning, feeling much better than he had done in a while, despite his hangover. He opened his eyes, sitting up with a small yawn. It took him a few moments to realise he was on the wrong side of the room and blinked in confusion. The events of the previous night hit him like a tonne if bricks as he rubbed his eyes, as if it would delete everything. John searched the room for his dormmate but saw no one. Odd..

John climbed out of Sherlock's bed, going into the bathroom and kitchen. His throat stung and his lips were dry as he called out the younger man's name, only to get nothing in response. After getting a paracetemol, he walked back over to Sherlock's bed, noticing his and Lestrade's clothes. Neat. Now he was worried. John quickly reached for his phone, calling Lestrade.

* * *

Lestrade jogged into his bedroom from where he was rubbing his hair dry in the bathroom, when he heard the song signalling a call. He looked at the screen - John, that was weird, John never called. He shrugged, picking the call up.

"Wazzup, John? Surprised you would be awake yet, howdya feeling, mate?"

"Greg." John spoke instantly, interupting the man's casual answer. "Have you seen Sherlock? He's gone. He's left everything behind. He's folded the clothes he nicked from you" John's voice sounded worried now, panicked. "H-he's not here.." His eyes did a sweep of the room again, desperate for the man just to pop his head around the corner. For him to call John an idiot for worrying.

"I am sure he will be back soon.. done that before." Lestrade held the phone to his ear with his shoulders, pulling on his jeans and buttoning up the shirt. "Though did he take something yesterday? After I left you? Drugs or something?" he asked just to be sure, slipping his jacket on and moved out of the building, to access the one where John and Sherlock had their dorm.

"No..no drugs.." John spoke as he rubbed his eyes, blinking around the room as his head pounded. "..Might have slept with him though.." He mentioned as casually as he could but he knew that tone was no good considering the topic.

Lestrade closed his eyes for a moment, before he raised his eyebrows. "Might?" he asked with amusement. He jogged the rest of the way to John's dorm, knocking rhythmically onto the door.

"Yeah I dunno..most of the night is still a blur." John commented, hanging up when he heard the knocks. He walked over, quickly opening the door. "Hi.."

"Hey." Lestrade quickly leaned down to hug the younger, flicking the call of. "So no drugs - are you sure? - and you think you two slept together." Lestrade shrugged. "What makes you think something is wrong?"

"H-he's always here this kind of time.. Why would he fold all your clothes up if he's had them for ages? Why now? I...right after that? He has no lessons today as far as I'm aware." He pulled away from the hug, eyes worried. "I've gotten rid of all the drugs... He hasn't had any as far as I'm aware."

"I have my doubts about the last one.. And about the 'slept together as well'." Lestrade gave him a small smile, stepping into the room. He eyes landed on the clothes at first, but then he moved to palm the cell phone which he noticed laying on the table. "You know Sherlock's password, John?"

"We did sleep together..I uhh think." He rubbed his eyes, following the other. "I bloody well hope we didn't.. Nah sorry. Do you know his password?"

"No I don't, that's why I am asking you." Lestrade grinned at that and shook his head, tryingly typing 'John Watson' into the device. It was wrong. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Well – Sherlock _always _sleeps after sex. For about twenty hours. Scared the shit out of me the time he did that. When were you born?"

"20 hours..? Really? Oh..something definitely must be wrong then." John looked at the door, too fixiated on where Sherlock might be to answer the question. "Oh! Right. 1989." He replied quickly, rubbing his neck.

"Exact date, if you will." Lestrade urged him after he tapped the year into the cellphone, earning an 'incorrect' as an answer. "And I am saying that because I have my doubts about what happened last night between you two. I don't think Sherlock was that drunk to sleep with a _straight _man." he rolled his eyes, absently going trough the pile of his clothes, that got stolen by the younger. Nothing was missing.

"July 7th.." John replied as he watched the man, his head pounding. "So you don't think me and Sherlock had sex? Maybe we didn't.." He shrugged. "Most of last night was a blur."

Lestrade shrugged again and tapped the combination of John's birthdate into the device. Incorrect. He tried to reverse the dates once, twice and finally the third attempt unlocked him the cellphone. "Well for one, I wouldn't expect you to go for that.." he muttered slowly, tapping at the screen to access Sherlock's messages. "And your clothes didn't look as if you had those off trough the night." he pointed out.

John looked down at his clothes, guessing Greg was right. "One weird dream.." He approached him, looking at Sherlock's phone. "You got in!? How?"

"His passwords are always very cliché." Lestrade remarked simply, listing trough the sent messages. "The pool, 1am. Meet me...?" He read out loud. "Is this freaking Bricksy's number?" he shoved the phone right in front of John's eyes, his own confused and wide. "Why is he meeting Rich? At 1 am? And what pool?"

"That..That _is_ Bricksy's number!" He replied after looking at it, shocked. "Maybe the college pool? Where the swimming team practise?" John's mind was racing. What was going on between them? "1am?"

"The message was sent at.. 12:23.." Lestrade announced as he moved to inspect the message again. "Half an hour to get there, that's not the college one.." he muttered softly. "Well - no need to think about that anyway!" he shrugged. "They met 9 hours ago, I quite doubt they are still there for us to find."

"Best bet going over to Molly's? Going to talk to Richard about all this...?" He asked, eyes worried and mind racing to why on earth they would want to meet..

"Might be.. or just a call.. wait up, I will call him." he frowned a bit and moved to sit on Sherlock's bed, fishing his own cell phone from his pocket. He quickly dialled Richard's phone number, tapping the call on loud.

Jim hadn't slept that night, his mind buzzing with excitement and possibilitys. He was expecting the phone call. Not waking Molly, he picked up, feigning a sleepy voice.

"Nhhello? Sherlock whaddya want? It's early and a Sunday..." He rubbed his eyes, playing his part. "Why're you phoning /me/..?"

"It's Greg here.." Lestrade announced a bit confused, and moved to blink at the phone in his hands. It _was _his own. He shrugged, deciding to let it go. "And John. We have a question, if you may.."

"Right sorry mate..What is it..? Ask away..I think I've got my contacts labelled wrong.." Richard mumbled sleepily. He looked over at Molly with a small smile.

"Did Sherlock - for some reason or other - send you a message?" Lestrade asked, careful to make himself sound partly exasperated and partly amused, even though he was tense and worried. No reason for either Richard or John to know, of course.

"Yeah I did..bloody woke me up too.. Sonething about a pool and something. I ignored it. No idea why he'd wanna meet me. He might have gotten the wrong number." His voice was usual Richard's though he rolled his eyes.

"Oh good." Lestrade let himself smile in relief. "I was afraid he was loosing what little sanity he had.. Sorry to bother you, Rich, see ya later." he quickly hang up, turning to John, and shrugged. Death end.

Jim turned his phone off, rolling his eyes. He turned to the girl next to him, gently waking her. "Molly? Babe..?" There was nothing for Jim here now. He had lost interest in the drawling ordinary people. He had work to do. John though. He would remain close as ever to John. The medical student trusted Richard with his life. His life was in his hands, the key he had to play with, but for a later date.

Lestrade threw himself onto the bed in frustration, face pressed into the pillow as if he was trying to suffocate himself. "Well, we just have to wait." he muttered a bit crossly, not moving his face from the fabric.

"Wait?" John repeated, in suprise. "We can't just sit here and wait! What if he's hurt? He's a genious but he's an idiot, Lestrade!" He ran his hands through his hair, frustrated at the man's attitude.

"Well than, tell me _how_ do you intend to find him?" Lestrade raised a sarcastic eyebrow at him, rolling onto his back with both his and Sherlock's phone cushioned on his stomach. "Because if you want to run around all of the swimming pools in the area of half an hour travel - maybe even in _car_, since Sherlock is not beneath hitch-hiking - be my guest, but I am staying here."

"So you just want life to go on as usual? Just..sit here until he gets back?" His voice was raised slightly, despite his headache. "What, what if he doesn't come back hmm? What then Greg?"

"There is no reason for him not too." Lestrade forced himself to talk casually. "He have disappeared before, sometimes for days, only to come back, claiming he had been 'bored' with the school." _Or texted me he was being overdose_, Lestrade quickly snapped at himself for thinking that way. It had been a one-time thing, Sherlock won't do that again.

"Right..ok then.." He sighed gently, finding some relief and comfort in Lestrade's words. "I'm gonna go get a shower, I won't be long." He nodded as he went into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

"Enjoy yourself." Lestrade muttered to himself and sighed. He kept on tapping his fingers against his stomach, too much energy and too much worry welled up in him. Just to amuse himself, he flicked trough Sherlock's inbox, noticing a rather large file sent from Mycroft. That was curious. And probably not private, since it was from _Mycroft_. He shrugged, moving to open the file to read it.

John took some more paracetamol before getting into the shower, his mind stuck on Sherlock and Richard. Something wasn't right there, he didn't find a connection between the two. They had only just met, and now they were arranging to meet at..pools? John stepped out of the shower, drying himself off and changing into clean clothes. He walked back over to Lestrade. "No news on Sherlock?"

Lestrade looked up at John, his eyes a bit panicked. "I think I found out who Jim is. And why Sherlock likes him." he commented numbly, passing the phone to John for him to read the files as well.

"Jim? The guy Sherlock said was his lover at one point..?" John refused the phone, the light from it making his head pound worse. "Just tell me, mate." Jim. John knew something wasn't right there...

He sighed softly, the arm with the cell falling back over his stomach. "Well, for one, he is suspected from three murders up to this point of time." Lestrade started carefully. And one of them happened at a pool, but John doesn't need to know, actually..

"Three? And this guy's just been floating around campus?" John replied, in shock. No wonder Sherlock was interested in that guy. "You don't think he's killed Sherlock have you?"

"Of course not." Lestrade tried to play it off with amusement, but the nagging feeling that he now _knew_ which pool was it and for whom the message really was, didn't want to leave him. No reason for John to know. Lestrade should probably write down a list: Thinks John didn't need to know.

"Good.." John sighed, relieved again but he couldn't help but feel that Greg was hiding something from him. John wasn't dumb, he knew that couldn't just be the full story. "Sherlock said he met this guy in the library.."

"That's possible." Lestrade shrugged. "It doesn't say that here, where Jim and Sherlock met, it just says where -" _Oh god, Mycroft.._his eyes widened a bit and he cut the sentence - another thing to add to the list. Few more times, and the only place suited to write the list on would be a roll of toilette paper.

"Where what, Lestrade?" John pressed, wanting to know desperately. He was getting annoyed at the other's secretive attitude. Why wouldn't he just tell him..?

"Oh nothing much.." Lestrade tried carefully. "Just where Jim and Mycroft met.." he waved it off as an unimportant piece of information.

"Mycroft? Is this Jim a friend of his, where did they meet?" Now Mycroft was invovled with this suspected murderer? What the hell was going on? John sighed, no one bloody bothered to tell him anything.

"Not friends, they just.. met." He completely ignored the second question in favour of running his hand over his eyes. He was freaking tired and worried - and not only because Sherlock decided to randez-vous with a murderer, but because he decided to completely ignore his warnings yesterday, and ended up shagging John, and because he would be like a death warmed over with exhaustion about now - and re-stating the files didn't really help.

"Just met..? Why is Mycroft important to this? Just cut the crap and stop witholding things from me! I'm not an idiot." He was getting even more annoyed now as he voice was raised, he didn't mean to be a twat but he was concerned about Sherlock.

"Well, read it then." Lestrade blindly handed the phone over, his arm shielding his eyes from the light. He felt a bit nauseas now, which was quite curious since the last time he suffered from hangover, he had drunk about ten times the amount he had yesterday.

"I can't bloody read anything with this hangover.." He frowned, angry that the paracetamol hadn't kicked in yet. He took the phone anyway, trying to blink down at the words but it only gave him a headache.

"Well, have fun." Lestrade snorted at that, refusing to move. "And sit down or something. And drink – a lot. That helps." he instructed, pointing at the empty glass that was sitting next to John's bed on the floor.

"Alright." John sighed, picking up the glass and went to go and fill it with water. He sat back on his bed, taking a sip as he checked his phone. 1 message? He checked his phone,

**Hey there John, you ok dear? Had fun? tW.**

tW...? He looked at it, confused. He didn't recognise the number.

Lestrade sighed heavily, drumming his fingers against his cheek rhythmically. He absently listened to John's footstep, but judging by the lack of cursing, John was fine. "You reading already, Johnny?" he raised his eyebrows, not that the younger could see him.

John was glad he had his brightness on his phone always very low, to save battery. "D'you know a "tW?" John looked back over at Greg. "They know me."

"A tw? Have you gone mad?" Lestrade asked conversationally, moving his arm from over his face. He blinked at the sharp light, but managed to roll onto his side to get a look at John. "I mean -ashes, what is a 'tW'?" he added, completely confused.

"Some unknown number's texted me. Signed off as tW. They know who I am." What was with all these calls and messages?! Ever since he had gotten involved with Sherlock.. "D'you know someone with those initials?"

"Well, no." Lestrade shrugged, as much as it was possible while laying on his side. "Text 'em back, if ya need t' know." he urged, going trough the possibilities. He tried thinking like Sherlock would, just because he could. "Is the non-capital 't' a typo?" he wondered out loud.

"No idea.." John mumbled as he tapped his screen,

**Who is this? JW**

He sat there, staring at it until a reply came through.

**You didn't answer my question. Naughty ;) tW**

John looked back over at Lestrade, "tW again, I don't think it's a typo. Here.." He passed the phone over to Lestrade.

"Either that guy is an idiot, or signing the texts with a nickname.." Lestrade rolled his eyes. "You know – like _the Weirdo _or something. What did he.. or _she _write anyway?"

"Yeah..the first text was asking me if I had fun and if I was ok. Second one, well you've got the phone you can read it." Great, were there cameras dotted around the bloody place? He did _not_ need this right now.

Lestrade just gave him a smirk, passing the phone back. He grew serious again, though - "I think you should just ignore it." he shrugged.

He shoved the phone in his pocket with a sigh. "Yeah you're right." John drank the rest of his water, starting to feel his head clear up a bit. "You got any lessons today?"

"No. I am finished for this semester. Have a free week now.. You gonna read the files, though? Because if not, I would rather switch the phone off and put it where it was." he commented a bit sheepishly. "Don't wanna Sherlock killing me, when he gets back." _If he gets back._

"Ah right. And uhh yeah sure." John picked the phone back up and looked through Mycroft's file.

Lestrade concentrated on his own cellphone, looking for Moriarty trough the web. "You know.. he's not enrolled in the school here.. what was he doing here, than? He shouldn't be able to get inside.." he muttered thoughtfully.

"Moriarty isn't a common name..maybe he's enrolled here under an alias? By the looks of things that might be possible." He continued to read through the file. "This guy's a weirdo.."

Lestrade hummed in agreement. "That's right.. Then he is probably still somewhere in here." he frowned. "That's not very calming, is it.."

"We just gotta find the guy who fits the age and physical description right..? But..this Moriarty guy has money. A lot of it apparently. He can just change it like that.. Adler and Moran? He's got people..that's not gonna help. They could be hiding him." He mulled it over in his head as he handed the phone back. Jim was here..he had been in here.

Lestrade switched the phone off and tucked it into his own pocket, feeling too lazy to stand up and arrange it back onto it's place. Sherlock would notice anyway, so there was no reason.


	15. Returning - Leaving

**Title: Of Rats and Men**

**Chapter: Returning - Leaving**

**Place: The Dorm**

**Characters: John Watson; Sherlock Holmes; Sarah Sawyer; Gregory Lestrade;**

**Mood: Moody, Irritated, Sleepy**

**Warnings: None. Probably.**

* * *

Sherlock stopped in front of the door to his dorm for a moment, hearing voices. _John_ - obviously, but someone was with him. He looked around noticing that whoever it was, didn't see it fit to leave his shoes and coat outside. Meaning it was Lestrade. He breathed in relief, though he was still tense. And exhausted. Maybe he could get an hour of sleep before those two start questioning him? He didn't enter, yet.

"What do you think about it then..?" John looked at him, running a hand through his blonde hair.

**Not ignoring me, are you? ;( That's not very nice. TW**

He looked at his texts again, feeling agitated.

"Me? I think it's fucked up." Lestrade chuckled softly. "But Sherlock wil-" he froze in a mid word, as the said male walked trough the door, dirty from head to toe, clothes a bit rugged and smelling.

Sherlock took a look around the room and shrugged, too tired to care. He shed off his coat and shirt, throwing it into garbage as it was completely ruined. Trousers followed and he moved to collapse onto his bed, ignoring Lestrade's presence already there - just pushed him a bit back, so that he could crawl beneath the blanket.

John froze, just staring at the man as he entered the room. He was shocked utterly by the state of him. "Sher..lock?" He spoke, looking at him in disbelief. "Where the _hell_ have you been?"

Sherlock sighed in disappointment - looks like he won't be able to get the hour of sleep. "In London." he growled back irritably, pulling the blanket over his head.

Lestrade raised his eyebrows at that and promptly tugged the blanket away from the younger male - it didn't quite help that Sherlock was almost naked beneath it - glaring at him. "Why were you in London?"

**Give Sherlock my best xxx ;) 3 tW**

In agitation, John threw his phone against the wall, only realizing what he'd done after doing so. He didn't care as he gave Sherlock a stern look.

"What." Sherlock looked back at him blandly, before he turned to Lestrade in irritation. "Give me back my blanket, then get out of my bed and then leave." he muttered silently, half ordering and half pleading.

"First I have few questions.. but.. well, I guess those could wait." he flicked his eyes at John, before crawling over Sherlock out of the bed. "See ya later, Johnny." he waved at him, signing a 'cellphone' at Sherlock discreetly.

"Seeya Greg.." He sighed, going and getting himself another glass of water, ignoring the tired roommate. He drank the glass before returning to his bed, picking up his phone.

Sherlock sighed in relief when John didn't have any other question, and covered himself with the blanket again. He noticed something laying just next to his neck - it was his phone. Shrugging, Sherlock switched it on, though switched off the sounds, and pushed it under his pillow.

He sat and watched Sherlock, both glad and annoyed that he was ok. Deciding to go on a walk to clear his head, he put on his jacket and shoes, leaving his phone behind him and heading out.

He really, really, really wanted to ask where John was going, but didn't want to get snapped at. Sneaking his phone from beneath the pillow, Sherlock noticed new message from Lestrade.

**John told me he had 'quite interesting dream' about you, if you know what I mean. Can't believe you'd be so stupid, honestly. Are you freaking mad? -GL**

Sherlock chuckled softly, sending back a:

**I wasn't the one to start it. -SH**

But if John believed it was a dream, all the better. He settled back into his covers, closing his eyes and soon fell asleep.

John was out for most of the day. He enjoyed walking, especially when he had a busy mind. Why on earth would he have a dream about Sherlock like that..? He found Richard on his walk and went down into the town nearby, going for a coffee. He returned later in the evening, feeling alot better he had gotten his thoughts off his chest and he took his shoes off, ignoring Sherlock and going to his phone, texting Sarah.

**[to Sarah]How're you today? Exam go well? :) JW**

**[to John W.]John! I thought you are dead or something, how've you been? Exam was horrible, rly. I think've got bout 30pct.. :( -SS**

**[to John]Hey, Johnny, our dear Sherly still asleep? coz he won't answer my msg. :) -GL**

He smiled at the reply from Sarah, feeling bad about his dream, although it was just a dream.

**[to Sarah]Not dead yet! I'm ok, hd a bit too much 2 drink last night. I'm sure you did amazing! :) xx JW**

Not expecting the text from Greg, he looked over at the seemingly sleeping Sherlock.

**[to Greg]Yh, the git's asleep still. JW**

**[to John]Oh my, think he wanna sleep tru the whole winter? :D -GL**

**[to John W.]Ur hangover? :D That's what ya get for drikin stead of studying ;) Nah,I screwed up. Chk yur results, should be ther. -SS**

**[to Greg]Hope's he got enough food stored in his burrow to last him. XD JW**

**[to Sarah]Haha, what can I say? I'm a rebel. Jk. Bet u did brillant! Where are the results at? JW**

The exam, the exam John couldn't remember doing..how had he done?

**[to John]Not a laughing matter :D if he doesn't wake up in two days, am gonna dump him into a river. -GL**

**[to John]Wanna help me? :D -GL**

**[to John W.]Don think so ;) should be on the net.. somwher. -SS**

**[to Greg]Of course not. I'll be happy to help. 1st inline I think. How long til we change the nesting? :D -JW**

**[to Sarah]Are you busy tonight, Sarah? Thnx, I'll have a look. xx -JW**

**[to John]If were u,I wouldn't try. He bites. Leave that for big bro. Might be fun ^^ -GL**

**[to John W.]Text me how u did ;) No,srry.. :( Going back home for a week. -SS**

**[to Greg]I won't go near the sod. I'll leave it to you Greg. :) He'll wanna tlk to u and not me anyways. JW**

**[to Sarah]Oh! That's fine :) I hope you have fun! Xx JW**

He sighed in dissapointment, hoping to have spent more time with her. John looked over at the sleeping Sherlock, having some overwhelming urge to prod him.

**[to John]I hate you. And no, he won't. He doesn't talk to me, unless I force him. -GL**

**[to John W.]Fun? Home? Not really. I will see you when I get back. ;) -SS**

**[to Greg]Haha luv u too mate. He wdnt wanna talk to me either. He hates me. JW**

John smiled at Sarah's reply,

**[to Sarah]Looking forwards to it! :) xx JW**

**[to John]No he doesn't :) Trust me, you'd know, mate. -GL**

* * *

Sarah laid the phone onto the table, smiling, and turned to pack her things. Thankfully, her rommmate wasn't in, so she could use the whole space. Checking her watch, she noticed her train leaving in an hour - so she had about twenty minutes to pack. That was fine, too bad she wouldn't be able.. oh screw it.

Sarah threw the suitcase back into the cabinet - after all, she was going _home_, she had everything she needed there.

Grabbing only her bag with wallet and few necessities, she jogged across the campus. Sarah stopped in front of the 221B dorm, knocking softly on the door.

John put down the phone when he heard the knock at the door, without texting Lestrade back. Expecting it to be Richard or Greg, he smiled. His smile grew as he saw Sarah stood there. "Hey! How're you doing? I thought you were off home?"

Sarah carefully peeked around the corner. "Your roomie here?" she raised her eyebrows at the lump on the other bed and smiled. "C'mere for a moment, just wanted to say 'bye'." she grinned, motioning with her fingers for John to follow her out of the dorm.

John grinned, "Sure." He followed her out of the dorm, shutting the door gently behind him. "You didn't have to come and say bye to me."

"I know. I wanted to, though." Sarah just smiled mischievously and circled her arms around John's neck, pressing a kiss onto his lips.

John smiled happily, kissing her back as he put his arms around her waist. "I sure am glad you did." He couldn't help the beam on his face, this was the happiest he'd been all day.

Sarah giggled softly, pressing her lips onto John's jaw for a second, before stepping back. "Need to run now, don't wanna be late.. I'll see ya later." she waved at him over her shoulder and ran to catch her train with a grin on her face.

"Alright then! Be safe! I'll text you!" He called with a grin, watching her leave before opening 221-B and walking back inside. He sat back on his bed with a happy sigh, seeing Lestrade's text.

**If he doesn't hate me, what does he think of me? JW**

**You didn't actually drop him into a river, did you. Coz it took you 20mins to reply :D And I donno, am not a mindreader, John. -GL**

**Haha you wish. Nah, Sarah came to say bye before she went home for the weeknd. JW**

He smiled, feeling giddy as he went to get another glass of water.

**No I don't :D I would have to take care of sick Sherlock after that. Sarah came to say bye? Oohh ;) -GL**

**Sod off. She just came to give me a kiss :) I'm feeling really good about her. I like her a lot. :D Beautiful, fit, smart, fit, funny! Did I mention she was fit? JW**

**Oh my, and u poke fun of me for having it bad! :D What 'bout ur exam? -GL**

**Haha. But at least it's not over /Sherlock/. This is Sarah! I'll find out my results tommorow when I've got lessons, they'll be on the notice boards or summin. JW**

**Isn't it supposed to be somewhere online? Oh my, u sayin theres something wrong with Sherlock? :D You are the one living with him. -GL**

**Cnt be arsed to do it right now. Of course there's sumthing bloody wrong with him! Doesn't he have aspergers or sumthing which makes him so bloody ocd? JW**

**Oh god, i'd be here all day. The bugger's still not awake yet. JW**

He looked back over at the sleeping Sherlock before typing again

**I'll be alrite until tommorow, not reallt bothered tbh. JW**

**Ok. So what're u up to? Would go t visit u, though am not feeling that well now :D if ur bored, u can wake him up :D -GL**


	16. Question Time

**Title: Of Rats and Men**

**Chapter: Question Time**

**Place: The Dorm**

**Characters: John Watson; Sherlock Holmes**

**Mood: Confused; Sharing; Curious**

**Warnings: None. Probably.**

* * *

Upon reading the text, a smile played on John's lips as he went to get his hockey stick. Sat on the edge of his bed, John poked the sleeping man, his eyes childlike and playful. "Sherrrlockk."

Sherlock gasped for breath and shot up into a sitting position, his gun safely in his hand and aimed straight at John's forehead.

Ashes.. he cursed to himself when he blinked the bleariness out of his eyes and lowered the gun. His brain raced as he tried to think about something to use to divert John's attention from the gun - or possibly himself, since most of the bruises he managed to gather were just now colouring up. Sweet.

"Don't blink." he murmured, gazing into John's eyes.

John dropped the hockey stick, his eyes going wide at the gun. "Wh-what the hell? Where'd you get that?" His eyes darted across the other's face, sighing slightly with relief as he lowered it. "What d'you mean don't blink?"

"Don't blink. Don't even blink." Sherlock repeated, biting down the gleeful grin that threatened to overcome his features. "Don't blink. Go find the doctor. John - go find him. And don't blink." With that said, he turned onto his side - stuffing the gun next to his phone under the pillow - and moved the blanket over his head.

John rolled his eyes, his mind on the gun. "Haha. Can it with the Doctor Who references before I send you to a _special_ type of doctor." He crossed his arms, looking at him sternly. "Why the hell didn't you tell me you had a gun here?"

"I thought you would notice, after all, I _had _it aimed at your head." Sherlock muttered, moving to get his phone. He quickly tapped his answer to Lestrade.

John shook his head in disbelief at the other's attitude. "Why have you never told me that it was in this dorm? It's a bloody weapon a-" He cut himself off, taken aback by Sherlock's bruises. "Where'd you get those..?"

"Oh my, are we playing ten questions now?" Sherlock snapped irritated, and instantly took deep breaths to calm himself. He checked the message from Lestrade and replied, before turning to John again. "Look - I am sorry I aimed at you, I thought you were someone else. I won't do it again – probably."

"You thought I was James Moriarty?" John asked, picking the hockey stick up and sat on his bed. "I'm guessing you met him at the pool then. And you took your gun there."

Sherlock stared at the older, quite aware his mouth was open. He closed it, his eyes hardening. "I see. I knew Lestrade had a habit of poking his large nose into my bussiness, but he obviously has a hobby of reading my personal messages out loud to you as well. How fun."

"What the hell were you thinking? You really _are_ an idiot, aren't you? That Moriarty guy is a complete psychopath! He's got murder convictions, Sherlock! What could you possibly gain from meeting him? He came here? What the hell were you thinking?" He rubbed his head frustrated more than ever at Sherlock. Couldn't he see that guy was dangerous?

"For one, I didn't choose that. He talked to me and was already dead set on making me suffer by that time." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Now piss of-" he stopped when he got another message from Lestrade, that one making him stare at John for a moment. "You still have nightmares, Watson?" he blinked. "I thought those stopped three months ago."

John was about to make some sort of offhand comment, his jaw moved to speak but his voice was stolen from what Sherlock had said. It took him a short while to speak again. "I'm sorry, what?" He attempted to sound annoyed but his voice failed him slightly. "What on earth does that have to do with _you_?"

"Your nightmares? Only that Lestrade is annoying me about you having had a 'weird' dream yesterday night." Sherlock shrugged. "Won't stop bothering me." he waved with his cellphone to punctuate his point.

"Oh. Right." John responded simply, glad that he wasn't referring to his actual nightmares. "Nothing important. Just had some weird dream. Really vivid but uhh..it's unimportant." He smiled, waving it off with his hand.

"Well, tell that to Lestrade, because he is annoying." he shoved the cellphone into John's hands, crawling beneath the blanket that was - warm - just waiting for him. He covered his head as well, because with the light flowing trough the window he was getting - tired/sleepy/exhausted - quite irritated.

John shoved Sherlock's phone back to him, going back on his own bed. "Tell him yourself." He sighed, drinking the last of his water. "Did you have fun last night? Anderson wasn't too annoying right? Really wish I hadn't drank so much."

"At one point, I was really enjoying myself." Sherlock chose a half-truth to say and tapped the message.

**John says the dream isn't important. Why don't you shut up about that anyway? -SH**

With a sigh, he crawled out of the bed. "I am going to take a shower." he announced to Watson, even though he really didn't know why. It's not that it was Watson's business, if the guy even _forgot _they had sex and wrote it off as a dream - Oh, the dream Lestrade was talking about. Not that Sherlock was complaining - it made his life easier - but it was still a bit disappointing.

"Enjoying yourself? That's surprising. As long as I wasn't an idiot." John shrugged, not really bothered about Sherlock's bloody shower. He was just worried and slightly angry why on earth would he meet a suspected murderer, serial killer and at 1am? This was ridiculous. John had the idea to talk to this 'Moriarty' himself. Maybe..Mycroft could give him the contact info?

About twenty minutes later Sherlock emerged from the bathroom, from neck to knees cuddled in his large blanket, feeling for once quite good. Content, sleepy and comfortably tired. Only one thing could raise his mood even more – to make John uncomfortable. So he moved to sit cross-legged on Watson's bed. "So, Watson, tell me about your dream." he urged him, careful not to let his amusement show.

John was finishing texting Mycroft as he looked up at the blanketed younger man. He sent it and decided to make up a quick lie. It would be mortifying if Sherlock found out John was having bloody dream sex with him. "It's stupid really. I was just falling. It..was to do with my dad again." He shrugged. "Just a dream."

"You are lying, Watson." Sherlock commented matter-of-factly and stole John's phone from his hand. His eyes instantly narrowed and he moved away from the older, frowning. "You did _not _just text my brother, did you.." he almost growled.

"Hey!" John reached to get his phone, angry. "Give that back! Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. It's a bloody private message and I wasn't lying you git!" He clambered over Sherlock, grabbing his phone back and fell of the bed with an indignant huff.

Sherlock watched him for a moment, trying to calm down the burning anger that seared trough him. "Listen to me, Watson." he commented silently. "Jim Moriarty is _my _business. Not only Mycroft won't tell you anything - why should he? - but I want you to stop poking your nose into it. Understood?" he had his eyes narrowed, dead serious.

"Why though? Why the hell are y-," John just sighed. "Whatever, not my problem. Do whatever you want. I'm just trying to be a friend here." He pulled his laptop open, logging on.

"A friend." Sherlock snorted without any actual humour in it. "It is no problem of yours, that's true. So stay out of it. Out of everything." he added. "It would just end badly if you did." Sherlock threw John's phone back at him and moved to rummage trough his suitcase, in search of clean shirt and trousers.

"Yes, Sherlock a friend. Whether you like it or not." John sighed, looking for his results online. "I thought we were getting along. Obviously not." He checked his phone and sighed.

"I have never had friend." Sherlock mused out loud, his shirt half-tugged over his head. "But if you want to know anything, you should ask _me_, not my brother, shouldn't you."

"You've got one now." John stated plainly, going onto the college's website. He looked at the results, scrolling down to the bottom until he saw 'Watson, John H.' He looked at the screen in disbelief. There must have been a mistake. 100%?

"If youmean it, stop trying to get in contact with my brother. Jim Moriarty is not a threat right now, you don't need to be able to find him." Sherlock commented, though soft smile tugged on his lips. Friends. That was nice.

John didn't hear him, too bewildered by his grade. A* - 100% 60/60. How the hell? He couldn't even remember doing the exam, let alone getting full marks on something that was his weakest subject. He looked up after a while, "Sorry, what?"

"I said you are to stop trying to contact my brother." Sherlock repeated, but turned to face him, tugging the shirt fully over his head. He started buttoning up his shirt slowly. "Why are you looking like an owl on caffeine, Watson?"

"Yeah sure. Not like I wanna contact that arsehole anyways." John's eyes looked back at the screen. "Nothing nothing." He spoke, dissmissive of Sherlock's question.

Sherlock snorted and tied his sweatpants, because they kept on falling down. Maybe he should eat more. Eat, hmm.. That's a thought. "I swear you have worse mood swings than women, Watson." he commented in passing, as he went to look in the fridge. Well, his bread had gone stale. That leaves pizza. He wandered back into the room, texting to the service to order one.

"Harry says that too. But I wouldn't listen. Why take the opinion of an alcoholic git?" He continued to look through the page, seeing the results of others. "I have anger issues, you should know that by now."

"I gathered." Sherlock commented dryly, scratching the few days old stitches in his hair. Thinking of those, he should probably take them out. Soon. He shrugged. "And I am not an 'alcoholic git', does that mean you will listen to me?" he raised his eyebrow, looking at Watson over his shoulder.

"Sure sure." John commented, half-listening as he scrolled down the results. The exam board must have got it wrong. No way could he have got 100%. "How'd you meet Jim again?" He looked up from his screen.

"Library." Sherlock answered, with his eyebrows raised. What was so important about that, anyway. "Why?" he asked, turning around to fully face the older.

"D'you think he knew you were gonna be there? Why was he putting on a character? There's no one in school under James Moriarty. So he's under an alias, right? What does he look like? This is serious, this psycho's still here."

Sherlock pondered about the questions for a moment, before giving a sigh. He moved - still barefoot and clad only in his sweatpants and short-sleeved shirt - to sit on the edge of John's bed. "I will answer that, _only _and only if you tell me why do you feel the need to know."

John closed his laptop screen and sighed, looking at the dark haired man. "I'm just worried about you. I know that might sound crazy but it's true. I want to help you. I don't want you to end up like that guy's other victims...can I have the answers now?"

Sherlock nodded with a half-smile. "I guess. Not all, though - you can't know how he looks like." his smile only widened a bit more. "Don't want you trying to punch him if you - by some unlucky stroke of fate - meet him." Sherlock grinned minutely.

"There is a possibility that he knew I left the dorm in quite a bad mood and barefoot. Library would be the only logical destination, then. So yes, he could have known beforehand." _If you texted him, that's it._

"But like I said, he wanted to meet me, putting on a character was probably so that I will find him interesting, and curiously enough – I did. But his façade was dead boring the first time." Sherlock addmited, rubbing the back of his head. "Yes, he is under an alias and you can't know how he looks. Like I said. He isn't an immediate danger right now - we came to an agreement when we met."

"Right, ok." John nodded with a small smile, "I'm going out later. Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone. What d'you mean by agreement?"

Sherlock wondered for a moment whether he should tell John, but decided that it didn't really matter. In five years, the older would be somewhere in Iraq or Afghanistan or somewhere, or even dead, far away from the personal war taking place in London. And of course Jim would know by now that he had been in London.

Sherlock had a suspicion John met with 'Richard' as those two would often be found together. So of course Jim knows.

"We.. agreed to stop our game for now, and start anew in five years from now." he titled his head sideways, as he explained.

"Oh right. That's good then." John smiled, relieved. "Alright then. Anything else you want to share? I'm off out in 10."

"_I _don't want to share anything. _You _asked, I gave you an answer. Anything else _you want to ask_?" Sherlock shot back a bit more irritably than he intended and drummed his fingers against his knees.

"Nope. I'm just fine thanks." He smiled plainly. "Thanks for being honest with me." John put his laptop away, moving off of the bed and putting his jacket on.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and moved from John's bed onto his own, grabbing an advanced chemistry book (John's) as he moved, since he wanted to finish it. "I am never honest, Watson." he muttered silently, thumping trough the textbook to find where he ended the last time.

"Fair enough." He wasn't going to argue with him, he needed to talk to Richard. John slipped his shoes on. "See you later Holmes." He walked out, closing 221-B behind him.


	17. Drowned

**Title: Of Rats and Men**

**Chapter: Drowned**

**Place: The Dorm, A Pool**

**Characters: John Watson; Sherlock Holmes; Richard Brook/Jim Moriarty**

**Mood: Irritated; Scared; Lost**

**Warnings: None. Probably.**

* * *

Sherlock amused himself by going trough the remaining chapters - it was soo dull, most of the things just again and again repeating facts previously stated, or those that could have been easily deduced - but soon ended up bored. He stood up and pushed the amount of books (John's) off his desk, and from beneath his bed pulled the few bowls and vials he kept there. Experiments - preferably with explosive or inflammable chemicals - were fun.

**Bored. Oh your friend sure likes to droan on. Like a teenage girl to her diary. Miss you ;) -JM**

**Aside from the fact that your comment sounds as one made by a teenager girl, Jim, I have to say I quite reciprocate the actual feeling. -SH**

**I was being ironic, Sherly :) When can we see each other again hmm? My heart is yearning for you. -JM**

**I am sure you will live. And if not, well. Too bad. Am I wrong in presumption you are in company of John? -SH**

**Oh. I will live. Which is BORING. Why yes, I'm with Johnny right here. He can't half ramble on. And on. How do you LIVE with this guy? Oh well, I have know him for over 5 years. I'm his best friend :) -JM**

**Good for you, isn't it. You wouldn't want to make him suspicious by texting, would you. -SH**

**Suspicious? Of little ol' Bricksy? Please. He's as bright as a box of broken lightbulbs. He doesn't suspect a thing. Even if I straight up told him, he'd never believe me. Sorry, got to dash. We're going swimming. :) You know how much I LIKE the pool. You're boring me anyways. JM**

**Don't drown. That would be just dull. See you in five years! -SH**

**I know it would, wouldn't it? Luckily I won't be the one drowning. Seeyou. -JM**

Sherlock rolled his eyes at that, but really, sometimes Jim was just so.. cliché. It was very boring. Sherlock turned back to his experiment, having thrown the phone onto his bed.

* * *

It wasn't until late the next morning that John returned to 221-B. He didn't say a word as he went over to his bed and opened up his laptop. His face was solemn and unreadable.

Sherlock turned to look at him from the (third) experiment he was playing with. He hadn't slept, though he wouldn't admit to anyone that he had been worried.

"I didn't realize the pool have overnight swimming events as well." he commented, because that was easier than asking.

"It doesn't." He replied plainly, feeling too tired to sleep. "Are you doing some sort of experiment?"

"No I am not. Are _you_?" he countered, holding the vials in his hands as some kind of pointer. He ran his eyes again over John's tired features. "Because, frankly, you look like shit, to use pop-culture terminology."

"Me? Experiment? No.." John sighed, typing away and not looking up at his increasingly frustrating roommate. He decided texting Molly would be best.

**Molly, don't freak out but Rich's in hospital. JW**

Sherlock almost growled in frustration. "Obviously, Watson, I have to spell it for you - what happened?" he set down the vials and moved to hover over the older, staring him down. He wanted his answers, whether John wanted to share, or not.

**Really? Where? Why? John,what happened? -MH**

"Accident at the pool." John commented, typing away on his phone. "Had to go to hospital."

**He got pushed off the top diving board and smacked his head unconscious and almost drowned. It looks pretty bad. JW**

Sherlock fleetingly frowned, running his eyes up and down John's body. "Are you all right?" he asked softly, trying hard not to look worried. Though John wasn't looking at him anyway..

**Which hospital? Dyu now who did it? -MH**

"Yeah yeah..I'm fine. Just a bit of a scare. It's Rich I'm worried about. He's in an awful state. Lucky to be alive." He finally looked up at him, exhaustion in his face.

He was transmitted all the way to London. 's. ironic. No idea, some older guy. Called him gay shoved him. JW

Sherlock's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline, and he sat next to John onto his bed, not moving his eyes from the older. Honestly, Jim got injured? That wasn't good. Sherlock was the only one allowed to be Jim's enemy.

"How is he? I presume he isn't in the local hospital.. can we go to visit him tomorrow morning, John?" Sherlock asked, his voice still quite soft.

**London. Ok. I can go there. Trains go there every hour. It will be fine. -MH**

John nodded, "Yeah yeah.. I was gonna head out and visit him anyways. I was there all night, he was rushed into theater to get his head stitched up. It was really bad." He sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. "Why do bad things happen to good people?"

**He'll be fine. Don't worry :) JW**

Sherlock felt his mouth twitch into a half smile before he could quite help it. Good people, indeed. "Well, I am going with you. In the morning? We could go right away.." he shrugged, quite eager to see the damage himself. Jim had to be fine, just had to.

I know.. it's just.. it's Richard, I never expected anything to happen to him. **Are you going to London again? Don't wanna go alone.. -MH**

**Me and Holmes are gonna go. You can come with maybe? -JW**

"Alright. Molly's coming too. Poor guy.." He shook his head, sighing slightly. "It was awful to watch.. He almost drowned."

**Sure! That would be great. Why's Sherlock coming? They don't know each other. -MH**

Sherlock nodded in acknowledgment. "When are we going, and how long do you want to stay?" he asked, mentally going trough the possibilities if Watson wanted to stay overnight. Because they won't let them stay in hospital. Probably. And he didn't like the 'almost drowned' one bit. What if Jim died? That would.. ruin everything. Ruin the future quite easily.

**They met before remember? When we all went out. JW**

"Not sure. Later on today? What time is it now..? I need some sleep." He closed his laptop, resting his head against the headboard with a sigh.

"Nine thirty-five." Sherlock supplied immediately, his eyes unblinking as he watched the older teen. He looked exhausted. Well - it had to be traumatic, as a doctor-in-training to watch a friend get hurt. Unable to help. He shivered slightly, knowing the feeling of helplessness. "We can catch the train that leaves at three fifteen; in London at four twenty-seven. I will wake you up at quarter to three."

**Well, yes. Once. Ok, fine. It will be quite.. awkward travel that one. Pick me up on the way to train station -MH**

**Unless you guys plan on going by feet. Wouldn't surprise me with Holmes. -MH**

**We're going by train. Bout 3, seeya then. JW**

"Thank you Sherlock..Now, Can I get so sleep?" He looked up at the other who was sat on his bed.

"Seeing as you actually _didn't _let me sleep when I needed it, I could probably retaliate and say 'no'. However I have much more interesting things to do than watch you, so yes. You can sleep." Sherlock frowned at the older, but moved from the bed to his own, fishing up his laptop from beneath a huge stack of (John's) books.

John rolled his eyes, not wanting to argue. "Thank you." He got under the covers and laid down, facing away from him. His eyes were itching for sleep and he was carried away immediately.

Sherlock sighed silently as he recounted what exactly did he need to do before the trip to London. Get rid of the stitches, for one. Think, that was another thing.

He tapped on his laptop aimlessly, just listening to the artist Jim had sent him a link to. Jim. He had written that someone was going to drawn. What if he had meant Richard? What if Richard was supposed to die and leave Jim more space and time to plot? If that was to be the case, Sherlock will need to buy chocolate.

Another thing to do in the meantime, when John dreamed away.

* * *

John's sleep was very much needed, but restless. What he was hoping to be a dreamless break ended up turning into a nightmare. Richard dying in the pool, drowning away and John was stood there, he couldn't help. No one noticed the blood changing the color of the water, no one noticed John frozen there. The lights went out, the staff went home, the place empty. John couldn't move and Richards body seemed to disappear under the bottomless depth of the pool, the water red. Finally, he could move. He sprinted for the water and dived in, swimming down desperately to find him. John saw the lifeless floating body of his friend and quickly grabbed him, trying to pull him to the surface but John's father's hand pushed his son's head back under. He writhed and panicked, unable to breathe and the red water began to fill his lungs.

John was woken with a start by his phone in his pocket going off, sitting up with a gasp for air, happy to see he was on land.

Sherlock turned to look at John when he heard him change his position, absently noting it was 2pm. One more hour to go, and Sherlock actually managed to finish everything he had wanted to. So he had one hour to pay attention to Watson, who was going trough all kind of interesting expressions right now.

A nightmare, obviously. "Want to talk?" Sherlock asked, slight frown marring his forehead, due to him not knowing how to care.

Breathing heavier than usual, John rubbed his head, looking up at Sherlock and shaking it. "No no..just..a stupid dream." His hand went into his pocket, seeing who the text was from. Blocked number. John sighed, really not in the mood for that and put it back in his pocket. "What.. What time is it? Sherlock?"

"Two. I gathered it was a nightmare, yes, therefore I didn't ask 'what is wrong', but 'do you want to talk'. _Do _you want to talk?" he repeated, and walked to place his laptop back onto the pile of books where he would be able to find it instantly.

"Do _you_ want to listen?" He retorted, raising a brow. No he wouldn't, so John wouldn't burden something stupid on him. Especially when it was a nightmare involving his dad.

"If I didn't, I wouldn't have asked, don't you think?" Sherlock repeated the gesture of raising his eyebrow, stilling in all his movements. Not that he wanted to listen to some abstracts fear - only, those maybe concerned Jim - but since the speaker was John, and everything about him was interesting.

His reasoning was sound enough and John got up to get some water, returning not long after with a glass and proceeded to explain his dream and hesitantly told him of his dad. "I told you..it was stupid.."

Sherlock - having sat down onto the floor, back leaned against his bed - looked up at the ceiling, deep in thoughts for a few seconds. As he really, really didn't know what else to say, he opted to ask: "What happened with.. Richard at the pool?"

"We were on the diving board, the high one because he bet I couldn't do it. I wanted to prove him wrong but some arsehole started giving him trouble and taking the mick. I started to stand up for him but they ignored me. He started getting really pissy at Rich and pushed him. He fell, smacked his head off the poolside and started drowning. He was rushed to hospital.."

"What did the guy look like?" Sherlock wanted to know next, just to be sure. If that man was Moran, than Richard will die for sure. If not, well.. they will probably see in about two hours.

"Older. I'd say at least in his 30s. Complete arsehole. He should know better, surely?" He was starting to get angry again. If the older hadn't have ran off then he would have socked him.

"He got away?" Sherlock asked again, tapping his fingers against his chin. It was quite an interesting situation, after all.

"Yeah. He cleared off I think. Fucking coward..just makes me so pissed off." John said bitterly, trying to not get too angry. "Fucking blonde twat.."

Sherlock just nodded. "You still have about one hour to sleep if you want to." he informed John with a shrug.

"No..No.." He shook his head. "I don't wanna see my dad again. I'm getting a shower.." John left his bed, going off into the bathroom.

"Get a tea, you need to calm down." Sherlock called after him, for a moment debating whether he shouldn't just do the tea himself, but decided against it. He didn't feel that well either, not after poking into the stitches.

"Can you stick the kettle on?" He called before running the shower and getting in. He walked back out in his jeans and a vest, quickly towel drying his hair.

"Fine." Sherlock sighed, moving to the kitchen to do as he was asked. He absently ran his eyes over John's frame when the older walked out. The familiar itch in his fingers to reach and _touch _him got back again - deciding that it was safer, Sherlock moved back to the bedroom.

"Thanks. You anything?" He called, making himself a cup of tea. Thankfully the shower had calmed him down. He just wanted to smash that older man's face to a pulp.

"No." Sherlock called back. He flicked trough his cellphone, rereading the old messages between him and Jim. If Richard was to die, though, Sherlock won't have a phone contact on him. That was bad, since it would give Jim a one-up. "You didn't get any other weird calls or something, did you.." he turned to look at John, hoping that if Jim, or Adler or anyone else contacted John, they forgot to withheld the number.

"Yeah. Text from withheld number. Just a sad face. I'm gonna have to change my number soon." He walked back in with his tea, sitting down on the bed.

"Fun." Sherlock murmured, his interest lost again. He blindly reached to get the first book he could find, fortunately picking up one of those he hadn't finished yet.

**how're ya :) soo boring here,, :(( how with the test? -SS**

**Alright thnx Sarah :) Got 100%! Crazy ey? I can't wait to see you again. JW**

John put a band shirt over his vest, applying product to his hair.

**Rly? Genius ;) 100, honest. And u thought u did bad.. :)) -SS**

**I cnt remember doing it! Srry to hear about your boredom, we should have some fun when you get back? Fancy catching a movie or smthing? :) JW**

**Dpnds on which movie ;) Any plans today? How come u don't remember writing ur test? :D -SS**

Sherlock sat the book down and yawned hugely, before turning to look at Watson. "If you have anything else you need to do before we leave to pick Hooper up, you should do it now. It's ten to three."

**Whatever you wnt. I don't know which ones are out right now. Hvnt been in a while. I dunno, I was feeling ill. JW**

John looked back at Sherlock, shaking his head before turning back to his phone. There was nothing that he knew of that he needed to do.

"Whatever." Sherlock noted, opting to get a shower himself. He grabbed clean trousers and his favorite purple shirt, locking himself in the bathroom.

**Donno ethr, surprise me ;) Romantic with happy end, please. -SS**

**Sounds great to me ;) So it's a date? x JW**

John looked up, watching the other go before lying back down and returning his attention to the phone and his unreplied text.

**[:( tW.]**

**Who is this? JW**

**Not important tW**

**I kinda want to know as you keep on texting me! JW**

**Am I not allowed? TW :(**

Sherlock watched with amusement the dark circles beneath his eyes and reached onto the shelf over the mirror to at least try to tidy up his hair. Honestly, he _hated _his hair. It was too unruly and too curly and dark, which was really just stupid, because Sherlock was _always _pale - another thing he heartily despised about himself.

When he emerged from the bathroom, fully clothed, it was one minute to three. "We need to go, now." he announced to John, slipping on his shoes.

**Of course it is! What did you think? :)) -SS**

**Unless you don't want it to be, of course.. -SS**

John ran a hand through his blonde hair and stood up. "Sure." He smiled slightly and put on his jacket, wincing at the slight pain in his leg as he slipped on his shoes and held the door open for the taller.

**On our way Molly JW**


	18. Travels

**Title: Of Rats and Men**

**Chapter: Travels**

**Place: University; Train; London**

**Characters: John Watson; Sherlock Holmes; Molly Hooper**

**Mood: Hopeful; Caring; Friendly**

**Warnings: None. Probably.**

* * *

Sherlock grinned at the gesture, walking out so that he would brush against the older male - that was acceptable, right? since the doorway was _oh so narrow _- and waited for John to lock the door and lead the way.

**Ok! I am getting ready, see you in a min. -MH**

He put his phone in his pocket along with the keys after locking the black dorm door. John headed towards Molly's dorm, walking alongside the taller dark haired man.

Sherlock kept on looking at the older from the corner of his eyes as they walked, his usually fast and long steps slowed down to match John's pace. He had thought it would get better, that the desire to touch him would grow weaker; that he would stop wondering, now that he _knew _how John tasted, looked, smelt. But no, of course not, nothing was ever that simple, was it. He sighed, forcing himself to look straight in front of himself. John had a girlfriend now, Lestrade had said. He had a girlfriend and Sherlock didn't know her, but oh how he hated her.

John's mind was preoccupied as they walked, mainly about dreams. His recurring nightmares of his dad and his..very strange dream about Sherlock. The dream had been so vivid and realistic, but it was sex with Sherlock. With _Sherlock_. John's eyes lingered over to the taller man before stopping at Molly's door. He knocked, putting his hands in his pockets afterward.

Sherlock moved to lean against the wall to wait for the woman. He didn't mind her, she was smart and - most importantly - left her hands far, far away from John.

Molly ran her brush trough her hair for the last time, putting on a quite fake smile and a lipstick. "Hi." She stepped from the dorm room and greeted both boys cheerfully. Molly quickly locked the door and pulled on them to see if the lock was secured successfully.

"Looking as lovely as ever Molly." John smiled gently at the girl before starting to head back. "Rich'll appreciate you being there if he's awake now."

Molly nodded, as she didn't quite trust her voice not to shake, and jogged to keep up with John. She hooked her arm trough John's, just to feel someone close. "When does the train leaves?" she asked in the end, her voice more silent that usual.

Sherlock walked few steps behind, rethinking the previous sentence about Molly keeping her hands away from John. Surprisingly, though, the fire in his stomach usually accompanying thinking about John didn't come - Molly was _Jim's_ after all, he didn't think Jim, or Richard or whatever, would share anyway. So Molly was safe.

"Three fifteen, we better hurry up." Sherlock answered just as silently, prolonging his steps to keep up with the other two.

"We'll get there in time, don't fret." John smiled reassuringly, lowering his voice to fit with the quietness of the others. Bricksy was really in a bad way when he saw the man in the hospital bed last. He'd be fine though. He was a tough guy, he could bout it out.

It didn't take them long to get to the station near the campus, getting their tickets and moving onto the quieter than usual platform.

"I don't fret, Watson." Sherlock rolled his eyes in disgust. He looked around over the station, before pointing at a train on platform three. "That should be ours, the number usually goes to London." he announced and caught Molly's wrist in his palm, tugging the other two after himself and into the track.

"Shouldn't we go trough the underground passage?" Molly piped out, but didn't struggle against Sherlock's grip. She just gripped John's arm more firmly, hoping for at least some kind of sanity from the older male.

John followed wearily but not questioning the brash decision although, like Molly, he would have preferred not to cut across the tracks. He was amazed by Sherlock's apparent complete lack of sense of danger. "At least we haven't missed it.."

"Don't say twice, John." Sherlock grinned at him, feeling quite giddy and _alive _now that he knew they had to cross fast. "We can always take a detour."

Molly silently giggled, the idea of running over a train station like a group of complete lunatics amused her.

They climbed up onto the right platform, Sherlock cheekily sending a grin towards a guard who was standing there.

"Not really wanting to be a pancake today, thank you." He commented, running as fast as he could, pulling Molly along as a train began to pull in. "We don't wanna be in hospital too, thanks."

Molly surprised herself by actually grinning. "You know which is the fastest way to the hospital, John?" she asked.

Sherlock finally let go of her hand and moved to the side to let Molly climb into the train as first. He gesticulated for John to follow, boarding as last one.

"Yeah. It's only a 10 minute walk to Bart's." He followed her in, his heart still racing from their sprint across the tracks. "Been there plenty of times. Training there after college luckily."

"I think she meant 'jump under a train' or something." Sherlock commented as he climbed up as well, following closely behind John.

"Actually, I meant 'car'." Molly turned to grin at them both, choosing an empty compartment. She moved to sit down by the window, putting her coat next to herself onto the empty seat.

"Oh.. right." John tried to put on a smile but it failed him as he sat opposite Molly, looking out of the window. "I hope he's actually awake now. I wanna slay that git for pushing him. For no bloody reason.. if he dies.." John shook his head, trying to calm himself down.

Molly's eyes grew a bit wider - Richard couldn't die! She would have no one left.. She turned her gaze away from John and Sherlock to hide her tears - knowing that the younger would probably notice anyway - and watched the fields and forests outside.

Sherlock, having sat down next to John, moved close enough for their knees to bump together with every move the train made. He flicked his eyes from John to Molly, noticing their solemn looks. He wanted to say that Richard won't die, but there was quite high possibility he would. Not Jim, no. Just Richard. He sighed and laid his head onto John's shoulder, closing his eyes to get at least an hour of sleep.

John looked surprised to see the sociopath resting his head on his shoulder, but he didn't complain or moan or push him off. He just, much like Molly, watched the world rush by as they traveled in silence. Tiredness took John away too as he closed his own eyes, his head coming to rest on Sherlock's as he fell asleep for the rest of the journey.

When Molly looked up, she couldn't help but grin. She reached into her pocket for her phone, snatching a photo of the two guys - both asleep and cuddled together, as much as that was possible when both were sitting up. Though Sherlock was turned so that he was almost facing John, one of his legs tugged under himself.

Molly giggled when she noticed the younger was actually _smiling_ in his sleep, and his cheeks were softly flushed. She snapped one more picture - blackmail material.

It was only when the train stopped at London when John woke up again. He blinked around the hazy compartment as he reopened his eyes, rubbing them and moving away from the taller man he wasn't ever aware of resting on. "This our stop?" He asked sleepily the girl. He was happy it had been a dreamless sleep, the steady motion of the train helping him catch up with the rest he missed.

Sherlock groaned softly when he felt the brilliant warmth shift, and opened his eyes as well. He stretched his arms and back with a yawn, ignoring Molly's answer for now.

"I think so, yes..there are three other London stops, so.. but I think this one is it." she moved to stand up and got her things.

John nodded, getting up and sorting his jacket out. "We've got a good while to see him before visiting hours are over." He commented, waiting for Molly to walk out before he did himself.

Molly led the way out, jumping down from the train as she didn't want to climb. She quickly looked around and, spotting the exit, started towards the underground passage. She didn't wait to see if the other two followed, trusting at least John to be able to find the way.

Sherlock haphazardly put on his own winter coat and scarf, keeping as close to John as possible. There were _people _all around, that was weird. He grew unused to crowds, mostly because the last time he visited London it was to wander trough almost deserted streets in search of the homeless and dangerous.

John made his way through the crowds with Sherlock, following Molly. He didn't mind the hustle and bustle of the city and actually found it slightly relaxing, coming from the city himself. He looked up at the taller when they approached the tall hospital. "You alright?"

"Of course I am." Sherlock scoffed at him, mentally cursing himself for being transparent. That wasn't like him. "Will they let us go visit him? We aren't family." he added thoughtfully.

Molly opened the door and all but skipped inside, the freezing wind passing trough London streets having made her feel quite cold.

"Right. Good." John nodded, walking in after Molly. "I'm sure they will, he hasn't got any family members there..at least I don't think so. They're all over in Ireland. They let me stay all night before." He walked through the halls, to the receptionist, glad that it was warmer inside. After talking to her and being allowed to see Rich for half an hour he followed the nurse into the lift alongside Sherlock and Molly.

Sherlock shrugged. "It's against the policy, you should know." he pointed out.

Molly raised her hand and tried hard not to look as if biting her nails, which she was. It was just all.. She was nervous. What if she starts crying? Come to think about it, she didn't even know how serious the injuries were.. Molly raised her eyes up from her feet - noticing Sherlock's always-attentive eyes watching her - and found John. "How bad was it?" she asked in a small voice.

"I know I know. But telling them I'm his cousin worked well." He smiled. "My Irish accent is bad but they fell for it, despite there being no resemblance."

His eyes went to Molly and gave her a reassuring smile, stopping before going into the room itself. "I.. Well.. Don't expect him to be jumping up and around too soon. He'll be fine I'm sure Molly." He have her a small hug. "You ready to go in?"

Molly nodded hesitantly and reached one hand to each of the guys, squeezing their hands in her palms. It gave her some reassurance, even though Sherlock at least looked as if not knowing what the hell was going on anyway. "Let's go inside." she muttered resolutely.


	19. Broken

**Title: Of Rats and Men**

**Chapter: Broken**

**Place: University; Train; Hospital; Pub**

**Characters: John Watson; Sherlock Holmes; Molly Hooper; Richard Brook/Jim Moriarty; Sebastian Moran**

**Mood: Spooked; Scared; Sad**

**Warnings: Character Death**

* * *

John nodded and walked in, holding the door open for Molly and Sherlock. His eyes were locked on the bed with the man who was his best friend, the happy over-dramatic guy who was lying motionless and ill looking in bed, bandages wrapped tightly around his neck from the stitching. He looked at Molly to make sure she was ok, it wasn't a nice sight. John was amazed Richard had survived the fall, there was a lot of blood when he smacked his head off the floor. He had hoped Bricksy would be awake.. but obviously not.

Sherlock had to catch himself not to either freeze in shock, or run towards the bed instantly. The sight was.. shocking to say the least - Jim, the dangerous genius and his first ever worthy opponent looked so broken.

Sherlock tugged Molly closer, since she did freeze on spot, looking pale and teary, and moved a chair next to the bed for her.

Molly couldn't move her eyes from the unconscious body. She absently noted that someone forced her to sit and she reached to grab Richards hand in both of her, blinking away the tears from her eyes.

Used to the sight of his friend in such a state, John tore his eyes away to look at Molly and Sherlock. "He looks better than before.. I.. well.. they've stitched him up." John didn't know what to say, hoping he didn't make things worse. His friend was lying there and he was being an idiot. He just felt awkward and didn't know what to say. "He was slipping in and out of consciousness before so uhh.. he might be able to hear you." John shrugged.

Molly nodded, though couldn't quite bring herself to say anything out loud. She didn't raise her eyes from the bruised face of her boyfriend, irrationally afraid that if she did, he would just disappear.

Sherlock let out a silent yawn and with a last look at the unconscious male left the room, in search of some doctor to ask few questions.

He stayed with Molly, pulling his own chair up next to her. John took her other hand in a hope to reassure her although the state of her boyfriend didn't look the best.

After a while, he left her with Richard and decided to go and see where on earth Sherlock had gone.

When John exited the room, some of the tension left Molly as she now could let the tears silently trace her face. She shifted and moved to run her fingers along the side of Richards face. She hoped he will be all right, not knowing what she would do without him.

* * *

Sherlock looked up at the sky as he lit his second cigarette for that evening, sitting on a windowsill in the floor beneath the one where Jim was. Jim.. Sherlock sighed. It did look as a coincidence, didn't it.. though with Jim, there was nothing unintentional. He would have to find some way to stay in the hospital even after the end of the visiting hours. Sherlock shrugged - that was quite easy, after all.

John stalked the halls of 's for a while, looking for his room-mate. Why on earth did he go off like that without letting his disappearance known to either Molly or himself? That wasn't the way Sherlock did things he guessed.

Finally, he found the other at the window. John sat up next to him, looking at the cigarette with dissaproval. "That stuff's bad for you, Sherlock. You'll end up in the morgue." He commented, half the mind to take the cancer stick off him. "How're you doing?"

"I had been in the morgue plenty of time, Watson." Sherlock commented softly. "You should get back there in case.. Richard wakes up. And Hooper doesn't look as if she was fine." he pointed out, almost slipping with the name. He just wasn't used to calling Jim any other way than Jim, not even in his own head.

* * *

Molly rubbed her eyes with the back of her wrist, deciding that she won't cry. Nope. Definitely not. But Richard looked so pale..

* * *

"Alright then. Don't die of lung cancer while you're gone." He smiled, heading back to Richards room.

"Hey Molly.." He smiled, sitting back next to her and looking at the lifeless Bricksy. "Any signs of life?" He asked, hoping to sound jokey but realized that sounded bad.

* * *

"Not worried, I hope." Sherlock muttered to himself, instantly lighting up next one. He was bored. And needed to wait till the nurse threw them out.

* * *

Molly shook her head. "Still breaths.." she sniffed, attempting to smile a bit, but it was quite difficult.

"He'll be ok Molly.. there's no need to cry.." He smiled as reassuringly as he could, hugging her gently. It was understandable for her to be upset, John was in a worse state when the ambulance was brought it.

Not long after, the nurse came in, asking for Molly and John to leave. He stood up with a nod, offering a hand to the younger girl.

"Seeya later mate, yeah?" He looked at Richard before walking out.

Molly leaned down and softly kissed Richards forehead, before taking the offered hand. She followed John out of the room.

"Time to leave?" Sherlock asked them from where he was leaning against the wall.

John nodded the answer to Sherlock's question, starting to head out of the hospital. "Good to see he's doing better though. I'll contact his lecturers tomorrow to tell them he's not in. Shame, he's got first day of shooting in a couple of days for this role he's got. History drama thing." He shrugged, heading out of the hospital.

"Probably won't make it." Sherlock commented distractedly. "You two go ahead, I have someone else to visit before I go. I will see you back in the dorm later tonight." he flicked his eyes towards a corridor that led to the stairs. He needed to go to the higher floor than where Jim was.

"Are you sure you don't want us to wait for you?" Molly asked softly, her eyes following Sherlock's gaze. She blinked as she wondered who could be Sherlock visiting there. Maybe someone from the family..

"Alrighty then. I'll see you back at the dorm." John smiled slightly, wondering who he could possibly be seeing. Or not seeing. He decided not to go too far into it and walked out with Molly, getting the train back. The ride there was longer than the ride to London, not being able to sleep with his mind on Sherlock and Richard.

Sherlock grinned as he watched them go, running the stairs up. He walked trough the corridor to the other stairs and, having waved Mycroft's ID at the nurse, sneaked into Jim's room. He sat onto the chair - quite hoping he won't fall asleep - and watched the young criminal. "Well, Jim. You really are quite entertaining." he grinned.

* * *

Molly watched John as he frowned. "Is everything all right?" she asked softly when they stood onto the platform and started their way back to the campus.

* * *

The Irishman didn't move an inch, looking as ill as he did before, unconscious but his breathing steady enough. The fall had had a massive impact on Richards head, smashing the tissue and cracking the skull on the side of his head.

* * *

"I'm fine.. yeah." He looked at her with a smile, "Are.. you? I mean.. with Bricksy and everything." John asked, hoping that she would be ok. She was a strong trooper.

"Not yet, I will be, though." Molly managed a small smile, hoping to reassure John a bit. She moved to hug John as they stood to a stop in front of the dormitory, since she had a different building. "Did you tell Greg?" Molly asked and moved back.

* * *

"I just hope you won't be stupid when you wake up." Sherlock exclaimed towards the ceiling in disgust, as he made himself comfortable, his feet propped onto the table. "Honestly, cracking your head open."

* * *

John nodded, understanding her answer. "No, I haven't. I'll text him when I get in. He'll want to know.. Well, goodnight Molly. Thanks for coming down. I'm sure Rich appriciates it." He smiled, heading back to his own dorm.

* * *

At that point, a doctor with a clipboard, scribbling down notes walked into the room, frowning when he noticed Sherlock. "Visiting hours are over, lad."

Sherlock looked up to give the doctor a bored glance. "Special allowance." he briefly showed him the ID as well, before stacking it into his pocket and resuming the ceiling-watching.

"Oh really? What makes your allowance so special? Can I see that I.D?" The doctor raised his eyebrow, putting the chart on the front of Richards bed. "I don't think you're meant to be here."

* * *

Molly nodded and turned to go to her own, intending just to go and sleep. And sleep, and sleep, preferably till Richard comes and wakes her up.

* * *

John made his way back to 221-B, unlocking the door and stepping into the empty dorm, shutting the outside world behind him. It was unusual, being in here alone.

**Greg, bricksy's in hospital JW**

"Troublesome." Sherlock commented to the ceiling and handed the ID to the doctor. He watched the elderly man a bit detached.

**Wat? Why? -GL**

"Mycroft Holmes?" He asked, handing it back. "Alright then, just don't disturb my patients too much, Mr Holmes." The doctor rolled his eyes before walking out again, mumbling something about politicians and police force.

**Accident at the pool, got pushed off the diving board and smacked his head proper hard. JW**

"Whatever." Sherlock sighed. He made himself comfortable again, realizing it could take up to about twenty hours or even more. Long time to think. How fun.

**U going to visit him?Molly knows?-GL**

**Me, Molly and Sherly just went to go see him. Poor sod. Sherlock's still there but me and Molly came back. JW**

**Y didn't u tell me?Would've come along..how's he,then? Wat's 'Sherly' still doing ther? How's Molls takin it?-GL**

**And ur fine? Wanna hang out?Shouldn't be alone, u kno. Molly neither. -GL**

**Sure, I hvnt got anything else to do. Me you and Molly hang out. JW**

**Molly, d'you wanna hang out w/ me and greg tonight? JW**

**No :D I am sleeping, John. Say hi to Greg. -MH**

**Cool! W8,I will come by, that fine?Since S.'s not there? -GL**

**Sure. Np, Molls is sleeping so it'll be just us 2. Cmon over. JW**

**Alright Molly, have a gd sleep! :) JW**

John put his phone on the side, going over to the sink to get a drink of water. He was feeling extremely dehydrated and he didn't want another headache to come along.

Greg knocked onto the door two minutes later, holding two bottles of bier. He had a pack of chips as well - tugged into the pocket of his hoodie.

John got up from his bed and made his way over to the door, opening it with a small smile. "Hey mate, you alright?" He asked as he walked back in properly, "Sorry to tell you so late."

"How did it happen anyway?" Greg wanted to know, as he moved to sit on Sherlock's bed as usual, handing one of the beers to John.

"Thanks." He spoke as he took the beer. "We were going swimming. Rich dared me that I'd be too much of a coward to jump off the top diving board. I obviously was gonna prove him wrong so we both went to the top. Some arsehole started being a prat to Rich, taking the mick out of him for no reason. I went into defend him but he ignored me and started calling Rich a fag and stuff. Which, despite him being slightly camp i- well that's beside the point." John shook his head. "Basically after that, Rich starting getting angry and yelling back and the prick pushed Rich off the diving board. Smacking his head off the poolside and falling into the water. Lifegaurd got him out but he was out cold and his head was smashed up. I thought h..I thought he was dead. The ambulance came and I stayed overnight." John shrugged, opening the beer and taking a drink.

Lestrade watched him for a moment. "Asshole.." he muttered to himself, feeling quite like going out and punching something. He opted to take a sip himself, the cool liquid calming him down a bit. "He got caught, I hope?"

"Nah. The bloody sod had dissapeared when I turned around. Everything was kinda blurry, I was just focused on Richard. The arsehole dissapeared completely." He tightened his grip on the bottle, drinking it. "Sherly's still there for some reason. Don't think it's to do with Moriarty do you? You think Moriarty pushed Richard?"

"I wasn't there, was I." Lestrade commented. "I don't think that had anything to do with Moriarty, why would he do that, you know." he shrugged. "So Rich's still out cold? Didn't wake up at all? I hope he does soon.."

"Yeah. Out cold. " John sighed. "I don't know.. I guess I just want to blame someone and Moriarty's the only name in my mind. On my mind." He rubbed his head, deciding to drink more of the beer. "There's a special place in hell for that arsehole who did that. Bricksy did nothing wrong."

"Damn." Lestrade cursed, leaning back against the wall. He propped his shoes against the edge of the bed and closed his eyes. "Well, give the bastard's description to the police, they will give you the name.." he shrugged.

"Fat load of good that'll be. Scientifically witness reports are useless. The guy was blonde but that's all I can remember. Older and blonde." He shrugged.

Lestrade snorted at that. "Brilliant." he commented. "Old and blond - what about security cameras? Any hope in getting the guy's face?"

"Maybe. That might be a good idea. If we can get the guy's face the police could find him." John nodded, trying to remember anything he could. "He was scottish."

Lestrade hummed, thinking about how to get to the security cameras. "Well, I think the police had to check the records, right? And if not.." he frowned fleetingly, trying hard to stop doubting the police forces, since he wanted to join them later on, "If not - aside from the fact that they are all incompetent babbling fools, we can get Sherlock to get those for us." _Or get Sherlock get his brother to get those for us, more likely._

"Playing detective again, Greg?" John smiled slightly, "Yeah, that seems like a good enough plan. Who ever's done this deserves to be sent down. Sherlock will help..I'll make him bloody help. He seems interested enough anyways; he's at the hospital still."

"You said that." Lestrade raised his eyebrows and took a sip of his beer. "Why, though." he wondered out loud. "But oh well! I guess he has to have _some _reason." Greg shrugged it off and leaned onto his knees, mischievous smile playing across his lips. "How's Sarah, Johnny-boy?"

"Sarah Sarah Sarah." John grinned as he repeated the name, resting his head back against the wall. "All good. We're going out when she gets back from visiting her family. She's brilliant. Seriously, just perfect."

Greg ran his eyes searchingly over John, as if looking for something. He sighed, but smiled a bit. "Glad for you, mate, glad for you." he grinned. "Rich sat you up, hmm?" the grin only widened.

"Yeah! He said she was a friend of his and was in my classes so yeah." He shrugged with a grin. "I'm thankful to that sly bastard. You found anyone yet Greg? Anyone tickling your fancy?"

Lestrade raised his eyebrows at him and snorted, instead of giving an answer. In an attempt to change the subject, he asked: "What about the test of yours?"

John gave him a smile, not bothering to prod an answer from him. "Well..I'll be going to Bart's after all. I got 100% some how."

"Brilliant." Lestrade grinned delightedly. "It was supposed to be really hard or something - mate, you are _smart_." he sent him a raised thumb. "Way to go!"

John shook his head, "Thanks but.. I can't remember doing the bloody exam, let alone getting 100%. I think something might have gone wrong with the exam board."

"Don't think so." Greg smirked. "Just admit it, you are a genius, just hid it from us so that we won't bother you to write our essays for us."

John laughed, "I'm not a genius, mate. That's the other guy who lives...here." He stopped, mind deep in thought. No. He couldn't have done. Why would Sherlock do that? Now John was just being ridiculous. Sherlock couldn't have done the exam for him. "You do your own bloody essays! I don't know anything about police enforcement."

"I don't either." Lestrade reacted smugly. "And that's worse, because unlike you _I_ actually should." He took a long sip of his drink, finishing the bottle and moving to stand it next to Sherlock bed. "But well - if you _were _a genius, that would explain how Sherlock hasn't killed you yet." he shrugged.

**Bored! -SH**

"Killed me? I know he's a bloody psychopath but I wouldn't count him as a murderer." He finished his own beer, placing the bottle on the floor before going to his phone. "Speak of the devil." John sighed, "He's in another one of those moods. I feel like a bloody nagging wife now."

**Then do something to change that. Come back. JW**

"Well, not killed you. Put your bed on fire, burned your books, soaked your clothes.." Lestrade shrugged. "Did that to me when we were forced to share a room on holiday once." he grinned. "Though you two are getting along quite well."

**Missed the last train. Have to stay - entertain me. -SH**

"Seriously? Although.. that doesn't really surprise me there. Why did he do that?" He looked over at Lestrade, eyebrow raised. "I guess.. We're getting along okay. I smacked his head off the headboard when he was being a little shit though. He had to get stitches and stuff." He smiled slightly, shaking his head.

**Entertain you? Entertain yourself. You're in London. -JW**

"I wouldn't think you had it in you." Greg laughed loudly at that. "The nice medicine student going and smacking someone's head open." he shook his head in amusement.

**You are being boring on purpose. -SH**

"Without having had rugby training in a while I was kinda working up to something like that anyways. You know I have issues with anger." He looked back at his phone with a small smile before returning to look at Greg. "Really? Nice? Is that my reputation?"

**Maybe. -JW**

"Yes." Greg nodded instantly, though his lips quirked up in an easy grin. "Though I know better." he added. "Most of the people doesn't, still think you to be kind and innocent. It's fun."

**Yes you are. Cease to do that, please, it's irritating. -SH**

"Fun?" A small laugh escaped his lips, "Sure, why not. At least Sarah thinks I'm nice. I'm kinda nice I guess. I mean, not a church on a Sunday morning kinda nice but uhh.. nice enough not to go round spraying graffiti or insulting someone's mum. Except yours." John grinned, shaking his head slightly.

**Then text someone who isn't irritating. -JW**

"No one goes to church on Sunday morning anymore, John." Lestrade grinned. "Let's see how long till Sarah finds out you are not that nice - what with beating up your poor little roomie." he teased, before adding: "And you don't even _know _my mam."

**You are less irritating than anyone else I know. Unless you are being an idiot. Like now. -SH**

"I know I know. I think, to be honest, Richard does. Maybe it's an Irish thing." John shrugged. "Always out on a Sunday morning at church. Since when has Sherlock Holmes been a poor little roomie? More like a tall, stuck-up pain in the arse." He commented, smile widening. "Your mum knows me. Prettty well."

**I thought everyone was an idiot, compared to you. What do you want me to say then? -JW**

"Rich does?" Lestrade raised his eyebrows. "Maybe we could pray or something," he waved his hand trough the air to emphasis the 'something'. "And Holmes can be quite agreeable, if you know _how _to get his attention." he smirked widely, before his expression changed to confused – "How do you know my mam, John?"

**If I 'wanted' you to say anything to me, I would have just imagined you doing that. I. Am. Bored. That's all. -SH**

"Yeah, thanks I'll pass on that one. I'll go for 'or something' thanks." John nodded, the smirk widening. "Oh, my and your mum got quite _acquainted _the other day. If you get my drift." He joked, smiling still.

**I don't care if you're bored. Why should /I/ entertain you? -JW**

"Not really." Greg shrugged. "But fine, our mams' know each other. How fun." he rolled his eyes. "But you are evil, you." Greg grinned as well, moving to prop his shoes against the wall, so that he was watching John upside down.

**Because Jim can't. But fine, since I obviously bother you so much, just tell Lestrade - if that moron is there - to take off his shoes before climbing into my bed. -SH**

John laughed, "Guilty as charged. I'm only joking around mate." He checked his phone. "Sherlock wants you to take your shoes off, bleeding psychic."

**You don't bother me. -JW**

"Told him am here, did you." Greg rolled his eyes, looking up at his shoes in amusement. "And I was wondering who you were chatting up. And no, I am not taking my shoes off, just because that bloody idiot is being bitchy. You can tell him that, if you want to." Greg turned his head and sent John a quick winning smile.

"No I didn't. He's just bored. Expects me to entertain him. Bastard." John smiled, glad Greg was here. "I'm not chatting up anybody."

**He refuses to take his shoes off. JW**

"Entertain him or _entertain_ him?" Greg wiggled his eyebrows, hiding a huge grin with the back of his palm. "I wouldn't say no to some entertainment myself.." he caught himself at that moment -"Not _that _kind, mate. I don't fancy you. A beer, what about going to a pub? Play darts or something?"

John chucked a pillow at Lestrade's head. "Ha-ha, very funny you arse. I don't think he meant that." He ran a hand through his hair, "Pub sounds good. The England/Scotland rugby match is on tonight. 6 nations. I'm sure it'll be playing." He put his phone in his pocket, giving up on texting Sherlock.

"Rugby, how fun." Lestrade commented, but moved to stand up. "C'mon then, it'll take your mind off of Rich." he urged John to hurry up, throwing his jacket haphazardly over his shoulders. "Or is that what Sherlock said?" he added just to spite him.

"Sod off." John laughed as he stood up, putting his jacket and his shoes back on. "You don't like rugby? You gay?" He added, grinning as he headed out.

"I _like _rugby. I _play _it, Johnny." Greg laughed, pushing the younger out of the dorm in front of himself, to make him hurry up. "And I won't bother answering the second question." he smirked and kicked the door shut.

**Well, Lestrade is a disgusting moron, then. How fun. London is boring; Jim's away. I am bored. -SH**

John just laughed as he walked out. "Which _team_ do you play for then Lestrade? Isn't it both?" He grinned as he locked the door. "Your history with Sherlock."

"And how exactly did it turn to be about me?" he asked with a roll of his eyes and a grin. "And you are in no position to make fun of me for having a 'history' with Sherlock, not with the fun dream of yours." Greg smirked and bumped his shoulders into John's.

"At least it was just a dream, we all have weird dreams. At least I didn't actually sleep with him, unlike you." John started to walk with Greg. "Whyy? You still like him."

"Still. _I n_ever claimed to be completely straight. And I don't usually have sex-dreams while dating someone." his grin grew wider with every word - it was just so _fun _to rile John up. Well, aside from the fact that it wasn't a dream - judging by the fact that Sherlock a) didn't say it wasn't when Lestrade asked him and b) had quite a visible teeth-mark on his neck. "What would poor Sarah say anyway?"

"Neither do I. I just- I guess uhh..It was a one time dream. Everyone has weird dreams. Sarah's not gonna find out, why would she care anyways? It was just a DREAM." He looked intently at Lestrade, frowning before calming down. "Sorry."

Lestrade blinked at him in shock, not having expected John to be so.. passionate about that. "Spill, Watson. What's bothering you?"

"Nothing.. Nothing. It's fine. I guess It's just..with Bricksy. Y'know. Didn't mean to blow up there." John sighed, patting the taller's shoulder. He looked forwards as they walked, getting closer to the pub.

"He'll be fine, you know. I mean - he is a tough guy." Lestrade shrugged, carefully watching the younger. "And he is at Bart's. The best doctors work there!"

"Yeah..I know. It's just, I could have done more to help out. I could have stopped it." John shook his head, agitation growing. "Nevermind. You're right." He smiled, walking in to the rather rowdy pub. "Looks like the match's already started"

Greg followed him, wondering if there was anything he could say to make John stop blaming himself - it wouldn't do for the younger to be so damned worried. He tugged him towards a table where there was only one – admittedly very drunk - person, and sat down himself. "You know.." Greg started, not really knowing where he was going anyway. "if you got into the fight, it would probably change nothing.. only _you _would be in the white bed as well. You did everything you could - now it's up to the doctors."

"Thanks I...Yeah.. I get ya." He nodded, looking at the drunken man wearily, his attention going to the screen of the tv which hung on the wall. "Scotland's winning.." He muttered miserably.

"Big surprise there." Lestrade commented dryly and looked up to watch as well, comfortable with just staring thoughtlessly at the screen.

"Want me to go get the drinks? Pint? Stella?" He asked, standing up and taking his jacket off.

Lestrade shrugged. "Just get me whatever it is you are having." he waved the question off, not really caring.

John nodded, watching the screen as he headed over to the bar and ordered two pints, watching England score a tri before sitting back down and joining Lestrade. "Busy tonight." He commented.

"Well, it's a rugby match. Between England and Scotland." Lestrade shrugged, leaning his head onto his arms. He had quite hard time concentrating on the screen, too lost in thoughts.

"Yeah. Suppose so. Would love to play for them one day. Don't see many army doctors retiring to be rugby players though." John smiled a little, his mind crossing to Sherlock and imagining him in a scrum. The idea was comical enough to cause a small laugh to come from him.

"I don't basically see many army doctors retiring at all." Lestrade pointed out, still a bit absent-minded. "Let's just hope we won't meet in ten years in hospital, both shot or something." he grinned.

"Yeah.. I don't really wanna get shot. Or shoot anyone. Just help them." He smiled with a shrug. "I think you'll make a good DI. You've got the rugged cockney look going for ya." He laughed slightly, sipping his beer.

"Thanks, I guess." Lestrade grinned, patting John's shoulder. "As for you - you will be a good soldier." he wondered solemnly, gazing up at the ceiling.

"Hopefully. I can follow orders I guess. March too." He shrugged. "I'm enlisting for basic training in a week. I'm very late to apply, usually you sign up at 16 but whatever." He shrugged. "I'll be a soldier next monday."

"That's quite soon." Greg frowned a bit. "But you will still stay for the second semester, won't you?"

**Stop hogging John, Lestrade - he is ignoring me. I don't like it when he ignores me. -SH**

Lestrade checked the message and laughed heartily, showing the message to John.

"Yeah, if I'm not away training. The regiment'll work out my training dates and my studying dates. I doubt I'll have much free time but that's what I get for signing my soul away." He smiled, looking at the phone before bursting out laughing. "Oh, we have _got_ to mess with him now."

"Well, if anyone can manage that, it's you." Lestrade shrugged. "Though try to sleep sometimes as well - an army soldier zombie wouldn't be fun." he grinned. "How do you reckon we do that?" Greg raised his eyebrows, expression growing delighted.

"I'll make time for sleeping." He smiled with a nod. "You too, Detective." John laughed excitidly at the prospect of winding Sherlock up. "I'm not sure.. What would really piss him off?"

"How am I supposed to know? I usually try _not _to make him angry." Greg shrugged. He reached for his pint and took a first sip, deciding that he should have had a coffee instead, since the cold liquid was quit annoying right now. "But I think since I didn't text him back, he is quite pissed already. Doesn't like being ignored, that one."

"The whole world doesn't revolve around Sherlock Holmes." John shook his head, taking another sip. "I don't mean to make the bugger angry..never mind." He smiled, lookin at the screen. "I'll have to go to the barbers on Sunday. Get my hair all cut. Shame. I like it how it is, a bit longer."

"Oh yeah, I forgot." Lestrade laughed loudly. "All new recruits are supposed to look like idiots, aren't they." he tried imagining John with that much shortened hair, but failed. "Come visit me when you have it all cut, I wanna take a picture."

John laughed, "Sure. Want me to come over in my squaddy uniform and everything? Looking like a complete twat." He wasn't afraid of joining the Army, but was quite weary of telling Sherlock he was enlisting properly on Monday. Why? Why did his mind constantly slip to Sherlock? Sarah. Yes. He'd have to tell Sarah. Blast Sherlock..

John's eyes went back up to the screen. "Finally, bit of good news. 20 minutes to go and we're winning." He looked back at Lestrade, taking another sip.

**Still Bored? JW**

"I don't think those buggers can hold it, though." he muttered, sceptical about the chances of England winning. His lips twitched into a smirk - "Yup, come over, would be fun." Lestrade laughed merrily at the mental image of John walking around the campus looking all around like a soldier. Might give a bit of scare to the newbies.

**No. Trying to see if Jim would kill Richard off or not. -SH**

**What? So it was Moriarty who pushed him? What the hell do you mean? JW**

Worry started to fill John's mind for his friend but tried to calm down, drinking his pint. "I'll come over yeah. D'you think Sarah'd be into the whole soldierboy thing?" He grinned, looking at the screen.

Greg shrugged. "Donno, I don't know her that much.. doesn't get on with Molly, so I never had the urge to talk to her." he shrugged again, looking up at the tv screen.

**Of course he didn't, that would be just funny. -SH**

**Funny? Nothing about this is funny, Sherlock. D'you think he's gonna sneak in and kill Rich? What's going on? JW**

"Molly said that..I don't know. She seems really nice. She was great on our date, seriously brilliant. She seemed fine to me"

"As I said - I never really talked to her." he waved it off. "Maybe they just didn't get along, that happens." Lestrade took another sip of his drink, now looking down at John to see his expression.

"Right.." John nodded, drinking again though his mind was on what Sherlock said.

**Sherlock, you said Jim might kill Richard. Stop being a twat and reply. JW**

Lestrade raised his eyebrows at the almost-absent look on John's face. "What's up?" he asked, flicking his eyes down at the cellphone in the younger's hands.

**Yes, he might. I am not sure if he will, but he might. You are irritating. -SH**

That text came to a blow to the stomach to John. He was irratating.. The one person Sherlock thought wasn't irratating now was. He slumped back in his chair slightly.

"Moriarty's planning on killing Richard and Sherlock's with Rich." He shrugged, drinking his beer.

**You're irritating. JW**

"What?!" Lestrade looked at him with his eyes wide. "Tell him to get the fuck away from there!" he snapped, feeling partly furious at the Holmes for actually going somewhere he could loose his life, and worried he would.

"Why would he try and kill Richard? What would Richard could have done?" He sighed, calling Sherlock this time, pressing the phone to his ear.

"I don't know mate." Lestrade shrugged, calming down a bit. He just hoped Sherlock won't be an idiot and stay there. Greg realized - startled - that the younger being with Rich could actually safe the unconscious male, and felt a bit bad for still wanting him to leave.

* * *

Sherlock looked down at his phone and sighed. John was so weird, first, he didn't want to talk to him, then he did, then he called him a twat - which really, really wasn't nice and made Sherlock feel weirdly cold - and now he was calling him. He picked up the call with a bored "What.", eyes trained on the unmoving figure of his friend/enemy.

"What's going on?" He asked as calmly as he could when he heard the man's steady baritone. He kept his eyes on Lestrade as he talked. "If there's a chance this guy's gonna come there you've gotta leave. We don't want two deaths."

"Oh my, how considerate of you Watson - and I guess Lestrade told you to say that, hm." he muttered with a roll of his eyes. "Did you call just to talk nonsense, or do you actually have anything interesting to share?" Sherlock asked irritably on purpose, quite unable to help himself. He wanted to talk to John, which would therefore be very unwise, considering the company Sherlock was in. After all, the human brain was able to function even when unconscious.

Lestrade raised his eyebrows, as he couldn't hear Sherlock's response, only John's side of the call.

"He encouraged the idea. Look, Sherlock. Just be careful ok? I uhh.." He didn't know what to say which could be considered interesting. "I enlist on Monday. So uh..you might have to find another dormmate." He shrugged, looking at his drink.

Sherlock looked shocked at the cellphone and ended the call, fighting the urge to throw the little device out from the window. Monday. Why Monday? Of course he had known John would be leaving, but.. Monday was so soon.. Too soon to never see him again.

* * *

"That might have not been the best thing to say." Lestrade murmured softly.

"He wanted something interesting." John said in defensive, putting the phone he had gotten from his dad on the table. He sighed, seeming as he could never win. "He's like a bloody kid."

"Not going to argue with you on that." Lestrade shrugged. "Though it still was a bloody wrong thing to say."

**Well, then you obviously don't need to worry if I die. Piss off. -SH**

"He wanted something interesting! I thought it was damn interesting.. I didn't expect him to go off on one!" He drank the rest of his drink, looking at the now finished match. "Looks like we lost, not surprised."

John looked at his phone, rolling his eyes. "So melodramatic."

**Talk to me when you've grown up a bit. Thanks. JW**


	20. Truths

**Title: Of Rats and Men**

**Chapter: Truths**

**Place: University; Hospital; Pub**

**Characters: John Watson; Sherlock Holmes; Gregory Lestrade; Richard Brook/Jim Moriarty; Sebastian Moran**

**Mood: Furious; Friendly; Freaked out**

**Warnings: Character Death**

* * *

"Not saying it's not interesting." Lestrade dawned his beer, standing up to get another one. "You want one?" he asked John absently. "But it might have been a bit.. too much to take right now." Greg added carefully.

"Yeah sure. Thanks." He nodded, looking at his phone still, not really paying attention.

**Look, Sherlock I'm sorry. I should have told you before. JW**

Lestrade moved to get two more beers, trying not to bump into anyone in the crowded space.

**I haven't grown up yet. Leave me alone. -SH**

**I didn't mean it. I was being an arse. JW**

John sighed, looking around the pub, some people leaving rather rowdily after the match had finished.

"Here you go." Greg announced as he crawled back into his place, placing one of the glasses he carried in front of John. He nodded towards the phone still in John's hands. "What now?"

**I am not growing up. Ever. I hate adults. They are mean. -SH**

"Thanks." John nodded, looking at the phone still. "He's not growing up because adults are mean..." He took a sip from his drink, looking at Lestrade before replying.

**Fair enough. Is Rich ok? -JW**

Greg snorted into his beer. "Well of course, everyone is mean to him, since he is a bloody know-it-all." he shrugged.

**Who cares. -SH**

"I don't think it's fair on him. He's brilliant. He really is. That thingy he has. Brilliant." John drank his drink, feeling bad now but pushed that feeling away.

**I care. -JW**

**Well, I don't. If my assumption is correct, Richard will die no matter what I do. -SH**

"You are getting depressed again." Lestrade noted a bit teasingly and poked John's ribs. "Happy thoughts Watson, happy thoughts." he grinned.

**I'm not talking about Richard. I'm talking about you. I'm sorry that I'm so worried about you. I can't help it. -JW**

John smiled slightly, "Yeah, happy thoughts. We're young, healthy, alive. We should be having a great time, right Greggy?"

**Oh. I see. I didn't know that. That's good, I am glad. -SH**

"Exactly!" Lestrade exclaimed, following the gesture with a wave of his hand. He grinned and bumped his shoulders into John's.

**Good. We cool? -JW**

"Right!" John laughed slightly, drinking. "So, back on the topic of you. Who d'you like? And cut the crap. Is it Sherlock still? What about Myycroft?"

**No. -SH**

"Can you imagine someone liking Mycroft? Well, that guy's cool and all, but when I met him, he was a right ass." Lestrade shrugged. "Had to punch him." he started grinning widely. "It was worth it."

**No? Why not? -JW**

"I dunno, a lot of girls might like the whole upper-class snobby ass look thing. Y'know, golddiggers." He chuckled slightly, "There might a decent guy under the suit and the massive nose."

"Well, as I am neither golddigger, neither a girl, I think I will go back to not liking Mycroft in peace." Lestrade grinned. "You can have him." he stack out his tongue at John.

"Maybe you could change him?" He raised an eyebrow with a laugh. "I like Sarah, mate. Remember? I'll cut that tongue of yours off in a second." John grinned.

"Give it few days and you will fall for the Holmes charm." Lestrade grinned. "You are on a good way, anyway." he stuck his tongue again, careful to be out of John's reach.

"The Holmes charm?" He scoffed, grinning. "No way. One sex dream does not mean I'm falling for him. We're friends, I'm with Sarah."

"Well, you should probably tell him." Lestrade pointed out. "But enough of that! We are supposed to be having fun." he rolled his eyes and took a large swallow of his drink.

"I thought we were!" John laughed, taking a large drink. "Ok..so Sherlock. What's the whole story with you and him? I never got that clear."

**You ok? JW**

"Consulting relationships is boring." Lestrade rolled his yes, prefering to ignore the question all together. "We should talk about.. I donno, rugby? Movies?"

"Consulting relationships? Boring? Dear god, you're even turning into him. This is Gregory Lestrade I'm taking to right?" He laughed slightly, patting the older's shoulder. "Yeah sure, whatever. Movies..? Seriously?"

**Sherlock? JW**

**Sherlock's doesn't care right now. Go back to your beer. -**

John looked at his phone, quite confused. The text had been instant, not from Sherlock's number. Blocked number.

**Who is this? JW**

**Not important Mr Watson. -**

"Well I always thought consulting relationships is for girls." Lestrade grinned widely. "Right, no movies than. I don't really care what, just not Sherlock, not Sarah and definitely not Mycroft.

**"How did you get my number? JW**

**Not important. -**

John frowned, showing the other his phone. "Who d'you think this creep is? It's not tW this time. Why do I keep on getting weirdos texting me?"

**Heyyyyyyyy – HW**

"Speaking of weirdos..." John shook his head, ignoring his sister.

"Who knows.. just ignore it all together." Lestrade stole his phone to look trough the previous messages. "'Sherlock doesn't care right now, go back to your beer'? What?" he blinked at the message, before looking around the pub to see if anyone was watching them.

"That's what I was getting creeped out about.." He looked around the pub cautiously. "We've got a creep following us." John took his phone back, texting the number again.

**Where are you? JW**

**Doesn't matter. You can't see me. -**

"Probably cameras or something." Lestrade pointed out. "The thing worrying me more is 'Sherlock doesn't care now'. Isn't he supposed to be in hospital? Staring at an unconscious guy? That's hardly amusing for him."

John nodded, feeling worried. "Something's not right.." He looked at Lestrade for what to do. "Should I call him? He hasn't replied to a text in a while."

"You can try." Lestrade commented dryly. "Though if he doesn't want to _text _you, he won't pick up your call either." he pointed out. "Or maybe he's just - I donno, asleep?"

"Yeah. Worth a shot though right?" John finished the rest of his drink before picking up his phone, dialing Sherlock's number once more.

Sherlock groaned in frustration as he noticed his cellphone ringing again. Honestly, he thought as he picked the call up, couldn't people just take the hint that he hated calling and send a message?

"What now." he snapped rather irritably.

"Are you alright? You weren't replying.. You're not dying are you?" He couldn't help but feel that he was being a nagging wife.

"Of course I am not, John." Sherlock replied, voice noticeably softer. "I didn't notice you texted me." he shrugged, eyes moving again onto the now-familiar figure on the bed. No change. Not-surprisingly so, as well.

"Right. Ok. You're not in any imidiate danger are you? Give me a ring if you are..ok? I'm worried about you. Are you still at the hospital?" He ran his finger around the rim of his pint glass absently.

"Yes I am - I told you I need to wait. I want to know if Jim wants to.. get himself rid of Richard." he caught himself before he could say 'delete Richard', because that would sound just wrong. "And I am in no more danger than usual. You are the one who can't wait to get himself shot." he snorted without any humour.

"What's Jim got to do with Richard? He wouldn't know him, would he?" He asked, confused. "I'm glad to hear you're ok though. I'm not wanting to get shot at all. Not many army doctors get shot. Well, my dad did but that's beside the point."

"Oh right, that's a bloody good motivation, being an army doctor like you father - who got shot. How fun." Sherlock exclaimed a bit more loudly than he intended. Not that Jim would mind, though. He was unconscious, after all. "Have you ever thought that maybe it's _you _who got it a bit wrong in the head, and not me?" he asked conversationally.

"I'm not trying to motivate anyone." John sighed, slightly annoyed. "He was shot in the shoulder. He's fine. Invilad but fine. This isn't about him anyways. My head's fine." He rolled his eyes, realising he was just making things worse.

"Sure it is. Well, since I am staying here till your little pal wakes up, and you are leaving in three days, good luck. Farewell or whatever." Sherlock rolled his eyes and swallowed a sigh. He could easily stay hidden in London till he was sure John was gone - it would be far, far easier than having to face him, knowing he will leave. Knowing they will probably never meet again - if he faced him, Sherlock felt as if he would probably do something stupid, like punch him, or kiss him, or whatever.

"I'll always be around campus when I'm not training.." He sighed, not wanting this to be goodbye. "Thanks, by the way Sherlock. I..I know the exam, it was you. Thanks." He glanced at Lestrade who seemed not to be paying attention. "Sorry I've been hell to live with. I'll make it up someday. This isn't goodbye forever. You'll be glad to get rid of me right? More room for your experiments. Anyways. Seeya Holmes."

"No, actually, I wouldn't be glad to get rid of you." Sherlock frowned, almost muttering the end. "And while that's nice and all, after I finish school I can't see you ever again." he cursed himself - that sounded very, very, very sappy. Thankfully he caught himself before saying anything along the lines of 'it would kill us both'. That would be even worse. "And what exam?" he grinned, even though he knew he was teasing only to prolong the call, as he didn't want to hang up, and didn't want Watson to hang up either.

"What d'you mean by that?" He asked, a smile playing on his lips. "You know what exam I'm talking about a- oh! That's why you were wearing the shirt. Feel free to keep it. Looks better on you anyways." He looked around the pub. "What d'you mean by won't be glad to get rid of me? Gonna miss me?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. And I still don't know what you are on about." he lied, slight grin curling his lips up.

That caused a small laugh from the medical student, smiling still. "Of course. Well, anyways. You behave yourself yeah? Stay away from drugs and I want to see you alive alright? I'll see you Sherlock." He hung up, a sad smile on his lips but a smile nonetheless.

Sherlock stared at the silent cellphone, feeling sudden urge to go and find himself some drugs - would it make John come and save him if he did? He shook his head, snapping at himself to stop being an idiot. Of course not, and he had more important things to do.

"So? Is he far away from Moriarty? And Richard as well, I guess?" Lestrade leaned over to John impatiently.

"He's staying there until Moriarty kills Richard apparently." He shook his head. "I can't change his mind. He'll be fine." John smiled slightly, mind far off. "He's Sherlock Holmes."

"Oh my, Watson." Lestrade exclaimed in a rather good impression of the aforementioned male. "Are you smiling when thinking about our dear Sherly?" he smiled a wide, sly grin, waggling his eyebrows.

"Ok, for a start - never do that again." John laughed, "That's frightfully uncanny. Secondly, yes I'm smiling. For a complete and utter twat, he's a great friend. You know that." He grinned, shaking his head.

"Yes. Mine as well. Though he will possibly kill me for this." he dawned the rest of the beer and laid a right amount of money on the table. "Since you will probably not meet again, I have two things to say." Greg paused for a good measure. "One - it wasn't a dream and it's eating him away; second - he lied, he _does _like someone - You." he stood up, tossing a tight smile at the soon-to-be soldier. "Think hard about how to use the information, so that I don't have to hunt you for hurting my friend."

Without waiting for John's reaction, Greg walked out of the pub.

* * *

John didn't say a word as the taller man left the pub, looking down at the phone on the table. His mind was going at a million miles an hour; Greg had to be lying..right? No way he could leave Sherlock alone now. But..he had to. Or moreso, Sherlock seemed not to want to. He had kept that a secret this whole time? Sherlock liked John? He ran his hand through his hair, trying to think of anything that would prove Greg a liar but he couldn't. John tried to convince himself that he didn't in anyway like the tall, curly haired man with the cheekbones. He liked Sarah. He was leaving on Monday. Sherlock was staying in London. He sighed, downing the rest of his drink before standing up and leaving the rowdy pub, completely unaware of the male who was trailing him.

Greg went into his dorm and took a shower, his mind on another matter all together. Maybe it had been a mistake to tell John, but.. Sherlock wouldn't tell and since John was leaving.. It _could _complicate things, but at least John will know. That was what was important.

* * *

Sherlock watched the unmoving figure. It was rather dull. He debated texting John, but it had been only about twenty minutes since their call - no reason to bother him so soon. He sighed. Honestly, watching people sleep was so dull. Too bad he needed to be there the moment Jim woke up.

* * *

John returned to 221-B, lying down on his bed just staring at the ceilling to let his thoughts fly through as he tried to ignore the couple shagging nextdoor. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, deciding to text him despite hanging out less than half an hour ago.

**Sherlock, I know what happened. Can we talk about it? JW**

* * *

Jim stirred slightly at the text tone going off, finally emerging from his unconscious state.

**1-what the hell are you on about now; 2-not now. -SH**

Sherlock leaned closer to the slowly waking male, wide grin appearing on his face, and waited for Jim to notice him.

A small and sleepy sigh came from the half-concious and drugged up male. His neck moved in the slightly lizard-like way it would as he nuzzled his head into the pillow. "Molly...What time iss itt..?" Jim asked sleepily in a daze, eyes not fully open yet as he remembered hearing Molly's voice.

**Fine. Whatever -JW**

Sherlock stiffled a giggle. "I didn't know I resemble woman that much." he commented matter-of-factly, the smile only widening. It was fun to watch Jim being all sleepy and confused. Sherlock ignored the new text from John for the moment, deciding to read it after he finishes it with Jim. He just hoped it wasn't anything crucial.

Jim opened his dark eyes slightly, seeing but not seeing. "Shherlock? 'Sat you..?" He asked, his voice groggy, yet quiet. He attempted to move but he felt too heavy and stayed still, reclosing his eyes. "Where's Molly..?"

"Back in the campus. You can call her later, or do you want me to send her here?" he asked, watching him still with great interest.

His mind slowly pieced together what had happened, his dark eyes opening again, pupils dilated due to the amount of painkillers having had. "Where's John..? John.. He ok? I neee to see Molly.." He was almost out of breath as he was speaking, his whole head clouded with unnecessary thoughts and information. He hadn't planned this. Any of this. There was a break in the links.

Sherlock watched the shock and confusion play across Jim's face. "That answers one of my questions." he muttered, quite a bit thrown off as well. No one could hurt Moriarty and get away with it. "Everyone is fine. Who pushed you, Jim?" Sherlock asked softly, rearranging the blanket over the laying male.

"Richard.." Jim corrected him with a weak smile, laughing slightly. He rested his head back, trying to think but the pain still drummed through the drugs. "I dunno..I dunn..dunno." He admitted as a wide grin spread across his features. "This makes things very interesting..very interesting. I deleted the man..stupid me." He contemplated for a second. "You thought I planned it, didn't you..? Idiot. Moron.. That's too obvious. Too boring. This is boring."

"It was a possibility." Sherlock admitted. "Second question answered. One more thing and I will leave." he grinned, though his eyes remained serious. "If you have gone stupid by cracking your head open, I won't play you." he muttered darkly, holding Jim's eyes for a moment, to show that he was serious. After few heartbeats, Sherlock drew back and stood up, fake and polite smile back on his face. "I will text Molly to come over. She will be glad."

Jim closed his eyes again, not paying attention to Sherlock's game face. "Thanks...I appreciate it.." He mumbled, resting his head deeper into the pillow. "Tell John I'm ok.." Jim trailed off, falling under again.

"Of course." Sherlock had to hail a cab to get back to the campus, since the first train was leaving in about three hours and it was cold outside. In the meantime, he texted to his roommate.

**Richard is awake and fine. Jim is not trying to kill him. Send Hooper to go visit him. -SH**

* * *

After Sherlock was well on his way out of London, Jim sat up with a small laugh. That had been too easy. He craned his neck, all previous looks of drowsyness or confusion gone. He scoffed, Holmes was boringly predictable. He had been awake the whole time Sherlock was in the room and my my, those conversations with John were interesting. Sherlock's weaknesses were painstakingly obvious, almost boringly so. His flaws would be his downfall. Jim muttered Sebastian's name and the doctor came in.

"There you are. I knew you wouldn't be far behind. Find the moron who pushed me, thank him - then skin him. Kill every last member of his known family and stuff them like animals." He frowned, forehead creasing. Although that act had lead him easily to Sherlock's flaws, he was humiliated. Carl Powers all over again. Sherlock believed he had planned it, he wished and assumed things to always be too clever, he was too clever. And Johnny. Oh that was a whole other story in it's self. More on that later, the psychopath thought as he moved out of bed, putting his suit on which Sebastian had brought for him. "Tell them he died due to a reaction to the medicine or something. Something boring." He walked out, his car waiting for him as he walked out of Bart's.

**Ok. Thanks. That's good news. -JW**

**Molly, Richard's ok and awake and wants to see you. JW**

**Thank you! I will catch a taxi right away! -MH**

Sherlock jogged out of the car and into the building, since he couldn't be bothered to put on his jacket, still deep in thoughts. He had really thought Jim planned it - and he didn't. That was frustrating. So he didn't, but maybe he will use it? Or not? It was frustrating to Sherlock, not to know what will happen. He forcefully slammed the dorm door after himself, throwing himself onto his bed in a bad mood.


	21. Lies and Leavings

**Title: Of Rats and Men**

**Chapter: Truths**

**Place: University; Hospital; Pub**

**Characters: John Watson; Sherlock Holmes**

**Mood: Angry; Mournful; Sad**

**Warnings: Character Death**

* * *

John jumped at seeing Sherlock storm in, so much for farewell. He couldn't help but smile, glad to see him again. "Hey Sherlock, you alright?" He tried to sound as casual as possible.

"Obviously." Sherlock muttered, his face pressed into his pillow, in a childish attempt to either disappear, or strangle himself.

"So much for farewell or whatever." John laughed gently, sitting up and looking at his dorm mate, glad he was ok.

"I said I have to stay until I talk to Jim. Thought it would take longer." Sherlock shrugged, as much as that was possible in his position. "We talked, I left. Richard is still alive.. End of story." The 'for now' that kept on running trough his mind was left unsaid.

**John. I am back in dorm - they called from hospital, Richard didn't make it. Greg is with me. -MH**

**Didn't make it? Sherlock just got back, they said he's fine.. JW**

John got out of bed, "Come on. We're going to Molly's." His heart sank. "Looks like you were wrong. Richard's dead.." It was hard for him to say, he wanted to scream but he knew he had to be strong. Richard had been his best friend for years.

That made Sherlock raise his head from the pillow, his eyes opened wide. What? But - oh. He couldn't quite stop himself from grinning, but at least covered his mouth for John not to see. John would punch him if he did. "I see." he muttered, talking more to himself than to John. "So it wasn't intentional.. but he used it in the end. But who pushed him?"

**They just called.. He.. died about ten minutes ago. Wrong medicaments or something, I don't know.. Are you k? -MH**

**Greg says you to say to Sherlock, he is supposed to take care of you and make you tea. -MH**

John tried to keep a straight face, but he felt like his heart had been torn out. Richard. His friend. The happy go-lucky actor. He shook his head, putting his jacket on, keeping his composure. He couldn't say anything, scared he'd break down. Richard. Bricksy.

**I'm ok. Are you Molly? I'm coming over. JW**

**Not ok, stay home, Greg's here - we will be fine. -MH**

Sherlock looked at the other male, for the first time thinking that John might actually be affected by the 'death', because a) he and 'Richard' had been friends and b) he didn't know Jim was still alive actually. He cursed himself for not thinking about that earlier, when he noticed John tapping at his phone. Probably to either Lestrade, Hooper or his stupid girlfriend. And he looked ready to break down, that wasn't good.

Sherlock hesitantly stood up, unsure of what to do - more so when John looked as if leaving. He couldn't help him if he left, could he. "Where are you going, John?" he asked, frown on his own forehead as well.

John sighed, holding back his tears and shook his head. "N-nowhere.." He sat back on his bed, head in hands, trying to be strong. "Lestrade says you have to make me a cup of tea.." He tried to sound as lighthearted as he could despite everything.

Sherlock blinked at him for a couple of heartbeats, before the words finally caught up to his brain, and nodded resolutely. "Wait." he instructed and skipped into the kitchen, putting a cattle on. He pulled out a mug and John's Earl Gray, before deciding not to make that one. That was _Jim's _tea, not John's. He instead opted for a herbal tea, that was said to be calming.

Few uncomfortably silent minutes later, he handed the tea to the older male, sitting next to his legs on the floor and leaning against the bed.

"Thanks.." He muttered, just holding the tea, trying to focus on the liquid and forget everything. Over 5 years he was best friend John had ever had. He didn't know what to say anymore. He took a sip, his breath shuddery. He wouldn't cry though.

Sherlock was watching him carefully. He cursed himself for not knowing how to help - he should have read some books on that, it could have been useful. But John was so tense. Sherlock sighed and leaned his head against John's thigh, thinking about what to say - the 'it will be all right' would just be stupid, because it won't, since John's - obviously - best friend just died, so he opted for the cliché "He is not really dead, you know..", muttered in a soft voice.

Well, Sherlock guessed, it was the truth after all.

"What d'you mean..? Of course he's dead." John frowned, rubbing his forehead. Was this some stupid way to make him feel better? He appreciated it, but it wasn't working.

"Well, the saying.." he started awkwardly, moving away from John with a frown. "That people aren't dead as long as you don't forget them." _Not even talking about the fact that the man you knew as Richard, is actually still alive. And probably quite angry._

"Don't be ridiculous. He's dead, Sherlock. Dead and he's not coming back! So stop it. Just sto-." He didn't mean to raise his voice but he was so worked up, his voicd failed him towards the end. "Stop. Please Sherlock."

Sherlock nodded, moving to sit on his own bed. Why was it that every time he tried to do the right thing – for John - it went horribly wrong? He drew his knees beneath his chest and stared at the older, waiting to see if he would break down, or talk, or just stay unmoving.

John took another shuddery sigh, his eyes burning away. "I'm..sorry. I shouldn't have snapped there." He ran his hand through his hair. "Thanks..for the tea and everything Sherlock."

"There is nothing to thank for, as I didn't do anything." Sherlock pointed out. "Do you want to.. 'talk about it'?" he quoted another saying he often heard people saying to others when distressed.

"No no..thanks though. I..just wanna.. I wanna go on a walk." He stood up, putting his tea on the side. "Won't be long." John put his coat on and walked out quicky, wiping his tears away.

Sherlock frowned at that and ran after him, as he was still in his shoes and long-sleeved shirt. He debated catching up to John to walk with him, but decided against it and just followed steadily few steps behind, careful not to be seen.

John kept his head down as he walked, trying his hardest to stop the tears streaming down. He didn't like to cry. He didn't want to cry or let anyone see him cry let alone Sherlock. He wiped the ones on his cheeks away, quickening his pace.

**It's ok. Do not cry. -**

John stopped, looking at his phone. Who the hell was that?

**Who is this? I'm not. JW**

**You are. Do not worry. Do not cry. -**

John turned around, looking for the texter.

**Can you see me? JW**

**It's ok. -**

Sherlock leaned against a door frame, partially hid from John's sight when the other turned around. He looked confused. Confused and surprised and a bit lost, but Sherlock decided not to question it. John obviously didn't want to talk to him, so he will just follow to make sure he was fine.  
He absently wondered if Jim kept Richards old phone and sent him a message to see if he would answer.

**My condolences. -SH**

**What do you mean, ok? JW**

**It does not matter. What matters is that you are ok, John. -**

**Who the hell is this? JW**

**Think of me as your guardian angel. -**

John sighed irritably, not needing this. He marched ahead, wiping his tears.

**Stop this. JW**

**I am afraid that I cannot. I am here to help you, John. -**

**I don't want help. JW**

**You need it. -**

John was walking faster now and Sherlock had to half-jog to keep up with him, however he still managed to stay covered. He didn't really fancy getting punched by angry and embarrassed John. And no response from 'Richard', so the phone probably staid with the 'body'. How dull. He would have to get Jim's contact any other way, or just wait those 5 years.

**Much appreciated. JM**

John sighed, walking still. He sat down on a bench nearby, just trying to calm down. Maybe he should try and text Sarah?

**Hey there Sarah, how're you doin? JW**

**Don't ignore me John. -**

**Why should I talk to you? JW**

**I'm trying to help you. -**

**I DON'T WANT HELP JW**

**Your angel is here John. It is ok. -**

**[to Watson, John:]John! You didn't write yesterday, I thought you were too busy. :( I am fine. Bored. You? What about your exam? -SS**

**[to Brooks, Richard:] Still smart enough? -SH **

**Sorry, I was in hospital. Richards dead Sarah. I'm sorry. JW**

**Dumb enough to level you. You are an idiot after all. Everyone is. JM **

**Delighted. -SH**

**Fuck, what? When and how? -SS **

**Pushed of diving board, smacked head off the floor. In hospital, given wrong meds and died. A massive shame. He was a great guy. JW**

**Anyways. As much as I 3 our boring conversations. I'm busy. Don't bother texting this number again. xx JM **

Sherlock grinned and put the phone back into his pocket. John was still walking away, probably aimlessly, and was nearing those parts of campus Sherlock didn't think wise to visit at night. With a sigh, he fished the cell back from his pocket and tapped a message to John.

**Come back home. -SH**

**Yes, that's.. were you in the hospital? You should have taken me with you. Do you know anything about the funeral? When or where or something? -SS **

**No idea about the funeral. Sorry, everything just happened so quickly. I'm still in shock. Sorry. xx JW**

John sighed upon getting the text from Sherlock, realizing he should head back.

**On my way, mother. JW**

He started walking back to the dorm, wanting to collapse in bed.

**Do not return back to Sherlock Holmes. Please stay out here. For a while longer. -**

**Why? JW**

**I like to see you. You amuse me. You are simple. I need that. -**

He increased his pace, starting to get worried and quickly ran to the dorm, running in and shutting the door behind him.

Sherlock lost John for a moment when the older quickened into a jog - while he would like to think it was because of him; to get to the dorm as soon as possible, he doubted it, something was seriously wrong with John - so he arrived to the dorm few minutes after him, having stopped to light a cigarette to have a good reason to be out. In only his shirt. "What's wrong, Watson?" he asked carefully, slipping off his shoes.

**I see.. If you know something, let me know.. I will get back tomorrow morning, can't stay home. -SS**

**Alright, be safe x JW**

"I've got some weirdo texting me. I don't know how, I don't know why but they were watching me and Greg today and they were watching me on the walk." He looked at Sherlock, slightly panicked, frowning at his cigarette. "Richards dead. I'm worried about you going the same way! This is all too much."

"You are the one going into a war zone." Sherlock commented a bit bitterly, thinking that John didn't really have any right to be worried about him, since he wanted to leave anyway. "And Jim won't kill me yet and anyone else -" he grinned widely, an insane light appearing in his eyes. "They would get it from him, if they did." he moved closer to John, towering over him with the same expression on his face still, and reached into his pocket for John's cellphone.

John looked up at the taller other, unused to the close contact and blinked rapidly. "Wh-what the hell are y-?" He shut up when Sherlock took his phone, having no objections to it. "The guy's crazy. Absolutely mental.."

"Obviously." Sherlock snorted. He narrowed his eyes at the John's reaction to his closeness and stepped away, fake smile on to calm him. He read the older messages as well, stopping at those labeled 'tW'. "Watson?" he asked tentatively, his grin growing wider and genuine. "You texted with Irene?"

"Irene?" He asked, confused, before remembering that name in the file about Moriarty. "Adler? I don't remember texting her.. D'you know who the freak is who's texting me?"

"No." Sherlock grinned and flopped onto his bed. "But 'tW' is Irene." he smiled serenely. "I thought you did read the files - Irene Adler, also known as the Woman. The ri-_left_ hand of Jim Moriarty." he grinned wickedly and tapped a response to the 'tW' number.

**Miss Adler - is Jimmy in relationship with his Right hand? :)) -SH**

"Irene..the woman. Oh right yeah. She's a dominatrix right? That's what the report..said." He watched Sherlock text, feeling out of breath from the running, the adrenaline.

**His right hand or his Right hand? ;) xxx I'm aware he had many relations with his right hand. TW**

Sherlock read the message and tossed his head back, laughing. "Yes." he managed to get out trough his giggles. "Has quite nice sense of humor as well." he noted, sending John a wink. He passed the cellphone back to John.

John took his phone back, going back onto his own bed with a sigh. He laid down, looking up at the ceiling, eyes locked upwards. The day had just been so hectic. He shoved his head against the pillow.

He sighed as well, the previous good mood forgotten and lost, subsiding to worries. "What did you want to talk about anyway? When you sent me the message.." Sherlock asked, hoping the topic - whatever it was - would take John's mind off of Richard.

John cringed, not knowing what to say but decided he wasn't in the mood to beat around the bush. "That night we all went out. Did we have sex?" He turned over to look at him, serious.

Sherlock blinked, shocked, for a few seconds, the only thing running trough his mind being 'oh fuck'. And he normally didn't even curse. Though his face remained calm, a mask he had perfected long ago, and Sherlock raised an eyebrow, the tone of his voice mocking and confused. "No..? Should we have? I thought you were straight."

"I told Greg, I had a very..well.._vivid_ dream. I thought it was odd but..he told me somethings, since he said if we weren't going to see each other again." His voice influxed, looking at him hopefully for any sign of truth. "He told me, that it wasn't a dream, Sherlock. I was plastered, I don't know what happened." He shrugged, admitting. "I thought I was straight too."

"What _else _did 'Greg' say, Watson?" Sherlock asked coldly, his eyes narrowed as he trained his eyes over the older male. He was going to kill Lestrade. He honestly was. And then he would have to make it look as an accident - thankfully he saw enough murders to probably be able to pull it off.

Hearing the coldness in his voice, John thought that they didn't need another death within their group. "Oh uhhh..nothing. I forgot. Completely. Something about uhh.." He tried to think about something about the man he already knew, "You and Lestrade sleeping together."

Sherlock barked a laugh at that. "You know you can't lie, Watson. What did he say." he repeated the question, purposely talking a bit more softly. Well, maybe not kill him, but redecorate his face a bit - hell yes!

"Don't kill him. Ok? He said..I know it's a lie but..uh.. He said..you like me?" He didn't look at him as he asked, looking at his hands. He could feel his heart beating rapidly as he asked.

"Oh fuck him." Sherlock cursed and jumped onto his feet. He normally never cursed, what the hell was wrong with him anyway? He blamed his hormones, since he was still technically a teenager. For few more months. Back to the matter at hand, he snapped at himself and stopped staring wide-eyed at Watson, moving over the room in few long strides. And of course he slammed the door shut - loudly - after himself, when he left, running away like a coward. Wouldn't Jim be pleased to hear that..

John was surprised entirely by Sherlock's reaction. He shouldn't have said it. John sprinted after the man, leaving everything as it was. "Sherlock!" He tried to catch up with the other. "Sherlock! Please wait!"

Sherlock disappeared into a dorm he knew to be empty, hoping very much John won't be able to find him there. Looks like he will be going along with the 'hide till Monday' plan after all. He jumped to sit on the window sill, lighting a cigarette to calm himself.

**I am going to kill you, Lestrade. -SH**

**What did I do this time? -GL"**

Sherlock! Sherlock come on.." John shouted as he walked past the dorm the other was in, unknowing. He went outside, trying to find him. Why did he run off like that?

**There you aree, John. -**

**Not in the mood. JW**

**Sherlock's ran away. Run run run away. Coming back on Monday. -**

**Who the fuck are you and why are you doing this? JW**

**I am here to help. Friend. I can see you. -**

John spun around, looking and trying go see if anyone was there, but they weren't. Giving up, he went back to his dorm.

**Do not think you are safe there. -**

Sherlock raised his arm and used his sleeve to rub his moist eyes. He was not going to cry, nope. He will just wait for John to leave and then it will be safe again.

**Why the hell did you tell John? What for? -SH**

**He needed to know, idiot. And right now has more important things to worry about than you being a bitch. Go talk to him. -GL**

Sherlock sighed and stood up, running out into the corridor. Because Lestrade usually knew what was best, right? "John!" he called after the retreating male.

**Like? -SH**

**Like Richard being dead. -GL**

**He is not dead, can't be, since he never existed in the first place. But I guess you are all too stupid to get it. -SH**

**What d'you mean? JW**

**221-B. Do not think you are safe there -**

**He will burn you. Burn you both. I can save you. Your gaurdian angel. -**

John spun around, relief washing over his previously panicked eyes. "Sherlock..there you are! Why'd you run off like that?" He approached the other properly.

**Whatever. Deal with John. -GL**

Sherlock looked at him, trying to look calm. What was that John said? _I know it's a lie but.._ He could use that - a lie. That sounds possible enough. "I was angry. I wish Lestrade would stop saying things like that, it's getting annoying."

"Oh.. Right." John nodded, a pang of dissapointment hitting him. "Greg, he was.. he was lying then? Just taking the mick?" He tried to ask as casually as he could, given their situation. He felt like an idiot. Had John just given his hopes up there..? "Uh.. Good. Good then. Wouldn't want things to uhh be awkward between us." John stated, licking his lips slightly out of habit, knowing the akwardness hung in the air regardless of what he said. He needed to change the subject. "A-any idea who this weirdo is?" John handed him the phone.

"I believe you already asked me - no, I don't know." Sherlock bit down the sigh of relief when John obviously believed him. That was good. And Lestrade was still an idiot. Utter and complete. "How are you doing? With J-Richard and all.." he asked carefully, leaning against the euter wall of the dormitory. Fishing up his cigarettes again, Sherlock offered one to John.

John took his phone back but refused the cigarettes with a shake of his head. "I'll be fine. It's..it's still kinda a shock. I'll get over it though..I just wish it didn't have to happen. That's life though." He started walking back to the dorm with Sherlock, "I just feel bad for Molly."

Sherlock, fancy dinner tommorow night? ;) tW

"Molly will be fine, Lestrade will take care of her." Sherlock absently commented, grinning down at his cell screen. He didn't respond, though, yet. "When is your girlfriend coming back?" he turned to look at John, disgust clearly coloring his voice.

"Uhh..tommorow morning, why?" He asked, not quite understanding why Sherlock was interested in Sarah. He had a problem with her obviously. "What's got you grinning like a cheshire cat?"

"Irene asked me out for a dinner." he grinned again. Tomorrow morning, hmm.. He wondered if the girl would feel the need to visit John when she arrives - probably yes, if what Hooper said about her was true. He would need to plan something. That will be fine, Sherlock's grin only widened.

"Oh." That's all he could find himself saying before he corrected himself. "Oh ok. You going? She's uhh..kinda dangerous though, right? Working for Moriarty and all." He opened the door to 221-B, stepping inside and sitting down on the bed.

"Irene is brilliant. Well, Jim's too. Not dangerous right now." he shrugged and moved to make a tea. "You want one?" he called at John, hesitating only for a second before preparing an earl gray for himself.

"Yeah, thanks. Just a normal tea." He sighed, leaning against the wall as he checked his phone. Obviously ignoring the weirdo wouldn't make him go away.

**I have eliminated the threat. -**

Threat? Did he mean Moriarty? He shoved it in his pocket, blocking the number. "Brilliant hm..? I think I can hear wedding bells. Someone Sherlock Holmes thinks is brilliant?"

"I am not going to marry either of them." Sherlock rolled his eyes, though John wouldn't be able to see him anyway. He poured the water into the two mugs and padded into their shared room, handing John's tea to him. "If only for the fact that Irene is gay and Jim is.." he stopped himself from saying 'in relationship with his right hand', since John wouldn't get the primar joke. "Jim is.. Jim is _Jim_." he shrugged.

He took the tea with a nod of thanks, raising a brow. "Jim is Jim? What do you mean by that?" John took a sip of his tea, sighing gently at it's soothing effect. "That's the same as saying Sherlock is Sherlock. Maybe Jim and Sherlock would work?" He didn't even know what he was saying.

Sherlock took a sip of his own tea, face screwing in disgust. "He likes Earl Gray." he muttered, shaking his mug, as if it explained everything. "And I like our relationship just as it is." he grinned. "What about you and.. her?" Sherlock realized he didn't even know her name. Or did he? Was it still the Sarah John went on date? Or not? "Is it.. serious?" he hoped it wasn't, though couldn't be sure.

"Richard practically lived off the stuff..never ate really. Constantly obsessed with his weight. Wanted to look good for his roles. We'd always tell him he looked fine. Had a yo-yoing problem in year 11." John shrugged, thinking back to his friend. "Never liked sports. Played all the lead roles in school productions. Loved the spotlight." He wasn't even aware he was talking at that point before snapping back to reality. "Hmm Sarah? I dunno. We only had one date. I wouldn't call it serious right now.

Sherlock nodded at the information about Sarah, caring more about the statement about Jim. Or Richard. He couldn't quite help but imagine the Jim he knew, standing in front of a mirror, looking all mournful about his looks. Sherlock laughed out loud, tossing his head back. It was just way too funny.

When he stopped laughing, he handed his mug of tea towards John. "Do you want this? I honestly don't like the Earl Grey.." he shrugged.

John frowned, annoyed that he was laughing but decided to ignore it. His best friend had just died and there was nothing funny about that. "No thanks. I..uhh.. I think I might wanna just go to sleep. It's been a long day."

"Right. Of course." Sherlock commented a bit moodily and retreated to the kitchen, pouring the tea into the sink. How could Jim even drink that? It was disgusting. "I will leave you to your sleep." he frowned, thinking that maybe he should sleep as well. After all, he had gotten only about two hours before John woke him up, and he was way past the dead-exhausted state.

"Thanks, Sherlock. I'm sorry for y'know.. Being an ass." John smiled gently, putting the cup on the side and heading to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He returned shortly, getting into bed. "G'night"

Sherlock soon followed suit, but even though he knew he had to be very exhausted, he woke up somewhere around two in morning, sweaty and panting. He hated nightmares. Moving out of his bed, Sherlock took quick shower and amused himself by plotting how to get rid or Sarah. In the end, he decided to go for the easiest way, and retreated back to his bed, facing the wall, and pretending to be asleep.


	22. Dates

**Title: Of Rats and Men**

**Chapter: Dates**

**Place: University; London**

**Characters: John Watson; Sherlock Holmes; Sarah Sawyer; Irene Adler; Angelo**

**Mood: Teasing; Playful; Worried**

**Warnings: None**

* * *

John woke up with a fright, not unlike Sherlock. He was shaking, sitting up and brushed his hand out of his hair. He looked over at Sherlock to check if he was awake then checked his phone. No new messages surprisingly.

It was about eight twenty, that Sarah left the train, unpacked her things, and jogged across the campus to knock at the 221B, waiting for John to emerge. She just hoped he was already awake, and wouldn't mind her visiting over - she just needed someone to talk to, who knew Richard, and neither Hooper nor Lestrade liked her very much.. So John was it. Sarah raised her arm and knocked.

Having been up for a few hours, John had already gotten ready for the day. He answered the door, knowing it was Sarah. "Hey there, it's good to see you! How..how are you?" He asked, smiling at the sight of her.

"A bit shocked actually.." she admitted, feeling quite nervous when she noticed John's roomate sit up in his bed, over his shoulder.

Sherlock secretly grinned, for few seconds watching the woman watch him. He gave her cold glare and stood up, acting all sleepy, when he stepped across the room to John. He circled his arm around John's torso from behind, laying his sleepy head onto his shoulder. "Who's she?.." he asked sleepily, eyes halfway closed.

"Yeah..It came as quite a shock to me t-" He turned his head to look at his roomate and down at the roomate's arms. John pushed his off quickly. "I think it shocked us all. Sherlock, this is Sarah. Sarah, this is my..roommate, Sherlock."

Sherlock stumbled a bit, before he caught himself. "Hi." he muttered, though he sent a smirk at Sarah over John's shoulder.

Sarah frowned fleetingly and turned her eyes to John, trying not to show discomfort at Sherlock's cold gaze. "It's... er.. nice to meet you..?" she said hesitantly. "Mind stepping into the corridor with me, John?" she tried, though her eyes were at John's roommate and not at him. She _did _notice the pause before John said 'roommate'.

He looked back, watching Sherlock before looking back at the girl. "Hmm? Oh yeah. No no, not at all." John smiled, stepping out onto the corridor. Damn it, why did Sherlock have to be like that?

"I just.." Sarah frowned, looking somewhere behind John's shoulder, unsure as to how start. "What.. what is between you and him?" she said the last word with disgust, though she tried to hide it. Finally looking up into John's eyes.

"Between me and him?" He pointed to the door before laughing slightly, "He's my roommate. A bloody annoying one at that, you should know what that's like. ..Why?" John asked, "Are you worried or something?" He met her eyes. She had such nice eyes.

Sarah's frown deepened. "A roommate. Only." she tried tastily. _You haven't seen him look at you. Or me. And you wouldn't have pushed him, have I not been there. _"I see." she forced himself to smile. "So - wanna go out? A breakfast, coffee?" Sarah grinned.

Sherlock watched the door thoughtfully for a moment, before he shrugged and cuddled back into his blankets, closing his eyes. He really hated her, and now, now he even had a face and a voice to hate. How fun.

"Yeah, only." He shook his head with a smile. Couldn't she see it was her who John was interested in? "That..actually sounds really great." He grinned. "I missed you, Sarah. How was your visit?"

"Boring. Go put some clothes on, I will wait." she nodded towards the door, leaning against the wall next to them to wait.

"Alright. I won't be long." He walked back in, closing the door and glaring and Sherlock. "What the hell were you playing at?" He spoke as he shoved a t-shirt on.

Sherlock muttered something into his arm and turned onto his back, blinking confused into the light. "Wat.." he mumbled, trying to make some sense of the blurred surrounding.

He shook his head, doing his belt up and putting on his shoes. "Just go back to sleep." That way he can't interfere more. "I'm off out." He grabbed his phone, putting it in his jacket pocket before slinging it on a rejoining Sarah. "Hi there. Ready to go?"

* * *

Sherlock grinned when John left - now for the second part of the plan, he had to wait for about an hour. He moved to watch a serie he quite liked, waiting.

* * *

Sarah gave him a timid smile and hooked her arm trough John's, setting off. "Where would you like to go, then?"

"Hmm..I'm not sure. I don't usually go out for breakfast. Well, I did once or twice with Richa-." He stopped himself, smiling again. "Nevermind, I think there's that decent café nearby. Sound alright?" He spoke as he walked along with her.

"Sounds brilliant, actually." Sarah smiled back, following after John trough the door and out.

* * *

Sherlock finished the first episode, checking the time. Not yet, one more episode to go and than he would start.

* * *

"Good good." John laughed gently, although there was sadness behind it. He shouldn't focus on Richard, it wouldn't be healthy. "What did you do or didn't do over there to make it so boring? Can't have been that bad.."

"Nothing to do there." Sarah shrugged, sitting down by the table. She shrugged off her jacket, making herself comfortable. "How was it with Bri?" she asked softly, looking at John.

* * *

Sherlock grinned - time to start. He moved into the kitchen, pulling out his old experiment with explosives.

* * *

"I guess that can be boring." John sat opposite her. "Bri..Well..what d'you mean by that? Like..He seemed pretty bad in hospital. We left..and..well apparently they gave him the wrongs meds and he had some sort of reaction." He shrugged, trying to go about it casually.

Sarah interlaced her fingers together, turning a bit white. "Did you talk to him before he.. died?" she asked.

* * *

Sherlock added the acid part of the experiment. It usually made a minor explosion, causing him to get few burns - he didn't mind those, just hated that he didn't know _why _it made this reaction - so if it did this time, his plan would be started. And if not - well, that would be even better. It would mean he can actually finish the experiment.

* * *

"I..talked to him when he was unconcious still. When we were alone. I like to think that he heard me..but I dunno." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "What d'you fancy? Fry up? Or something continental maybe..?" He looked at her with a small smile before looking down at the table, "He didn't wake up..as far as I'm aware. After he got pushed.."

"I.. I see." Sarah aknowledged a bit shakily, though she remained expressionless. It wouldn't do for anyone to see her shaken. "I will have.. pankaces and coffee, please.." she smiled.

* * *

Oh! Yes, it exploded. Again. Sherlock sighed, watching with fascination his burned fingers. Nothing serious, just looked awfull. It didn't even hurt - just itched, the horrible weird itch. He shrugged and cleaned the spillt remains from the table and pushed his hand beneath a stream of water.

* * *

"Sure. I think I'll go for the fry up." He nodded, getting up to go to the counter and order, wiping away tears quickly, feeling glad Sarah didn't see. He returned shortly, sitting down. "I'm greateful to Rich though. Would have never met you without him."

Sarah giggled softly at that, covering her mouth with her hand. "Yes, it's good he set us up, isn't it." she smiled. "I am glad.."

**I assume you are still on your date. -SH**

Sherlock retreated into the bedroom, laying flat onto his back on the bed. He tugged his reddened hand between his knees to stop himself from scratching it.

"Very good, yes. How did your results come along by the way?" He smiled, interested but sighed at his phone, "Sorry.." He checked it.

**Yes. I'm turning my phone off now. JW**

He did so with an apologetic smile, putting it in his pocket.

**Wait! Just one question! -SH**

Sherlock sent it quickly, hoping that John didn't manage to turn it off before he read it.

**Where do you keep your 1stAid kit? -SH**

"Seventy-nine, way beneath my average.." Sarah muttered quite moodily. "Who was it?" She raised her eyebrows at John's cellphone. "It might have been important." she shrugged.

"Don't worry. Just Sherlock." John shook his head with a sigh, smiling. "79's not too bad. I'm sure you'll be fine. Your other grades make up for it definitely" he nodded, looking away from her when the breakfast was brought over.

Sarah felt her smile widen at the first part. That was good, the only thing important for John right now was her. She thanked the waiter and testilly sipped her coffee. It was honestly terrible, but what could she do. "So how did you do, then?" she smiled at John.

* * *

Sherlock watched his phone - looks like he didn't manage before John switched it off. He sighed. Not that it was that bad, he could survive.. Because even if that made John come back - and even while sending the text he wasn't sure that was what he wanted - it wouldn't make John like him, just be guilty that he left mid-date. The whole plan had been stupid, Sherlock had been stupid. He sighed and covered his ears with his earphones, relaxing into the well-known tones.

* * *

John picked up his knife and fork and began to eat his bacon with a smile, the food was decent enough. He looked at Sarah with a guilty smile. "100%.. It was a fluke though, I'm sure."

"100?" Sarah blinked at him with awe. "Really? I mean.. that's incredible! John, that's.. that's amazing!" she exclaimed, her pankaces completely forgotten. "With that score, you could go to work where ever you want to!" Sarah pointed out.

"Yeah..Oh thanks.." He smiled bashfully, feeling guilty as he knew Sherlock did the test for him and Sarah was much more deserving of the grades. "I..maybe this is a good time to tell you. Please don't be mad. But uhh..On Monday I head to Suffolk for my Army Training."

Sarah just blinked at him for a few seconds, quite shocked. "This Monday?" she asked carefully, hands limply laying in her lap. "And how.. how will it work? Will you stay there, or here? What about your school?" she asked silently, raising her eyebrows.

"I'll come back for classes, but be away on weekends for training. The upcoming Monday, that week's orientation so I've gotta stay there. After this term, if I keep up the grades, I'll be training at St Bart's. Which will be close enough to stay on camp full time. I'm sorry.." He did feel guilty leaving everyone behind but he had a job he wanted to do badly.

Sarah smiled a bit hesitantly. "But you will still stay here most of the time trough the week, right?" she took another sip of her coffee and took a small bite of her breakfast. It wasn't any better than the coffee.

John nodded, "Yeah. Apart from next week. Otherwise I'll be here most of the time." He tried the eggs with a smile and swallowed it down, pulling a face. He lowered his voice with a laugh, "This place isn't as good as I thought"

"No it's not." Sarah laughed along with him. "It's honestly horrible." she pushed her pankaces away, deciding it will be better to just skip the meal, than try to digest whatever it was. "Here, try these." she nodded towards her plate with a smile.

John laughed, picking up his fork again to try a bit of the pancake, faking choking and dying. "Bloody hell, that is terrible.." He put the fork down, deciding he really couldn't have any more of the stomach turning breakfast. "Sorry, If I would have known this place was bad we would have gone elsewhere"

"Well, next time we will know better." Sarah grinned. "Wouldn't want you to die from a pancake, after all!" she exclaimed dramatically. She reached across the table and caught John's hand with her, smiling. "So what were you up to, when I was home?"

"No no..wouldn't want that." John smiled, looking at their hands then back at her with a small laugh. "Well, not much really. We went out and had a couple of drinks, I got plastered. Not much really, aside from..everything. Y'know..with Rich."

"I know.." Sarah muttered softly. "I miss him, he was.. very unique." she grinned sheepishly, unable to find any better word. "Never get why he got hooked up with Hooper anyway." she scoffed fleetingly.

"Unique's a..good word to use. Flamboyant? I'm not sure." He laughed, shaking his head slightly, "Well, Molly's a lovely girl. I hope she's ok. Love comes in different forms I guess. He was crazy about her. Mollz this, Mollz that."

"Flamboyant." Sarah repeated, weighing the word. "Yes, flamboyant. Good actor." she smiled. "I meant.. Hooper may be.. lovely," Sarah said tastily, "but still ordinary. And a girl. By the way Richard went on and on about the roommate of yours when he got drunk, I didn't expect that." she commented in amusement.

"He went on about Sherlock? I guess I never noticed that. He _did_ always want him to come along I guess." John smiled, "He was always very very _very_ camp but I think he was straight. I remember back in Year 10 when he was obsessed with this girl. Absolutely obsessed. Went on and on about her. Never got to go out with her though. I don't think." He shrugged. "Maybe Molly was his beard or something? Is that what it's called?"

"'Beard'? Not sure what you mean." Sarah shrugged. "Well, always when he got drunk." she snorted, before catching herself and covering her mouth with her hand. "By the way he talked about him, I would expect him to be some kind of a hero. Not the.. the skinny, annoying guy I met today."

"Beard. Uhh kinda the person a guy goes out with before realising he's gay and the girl he goes out with and realises he's gay is his beard or something. Heard it from Lestrade so.." He waved that off with his hand with a small chuckle at Sarah's laugh. "What did Rich say about him? How did he even know him..? Sherlock's always been a skinny, annoying git who thinks he's so much better than anyone else because he's a genius."

"I never thought something like _that _even had special name." Sarah scoffed. "Don't know, tuned him out after first few seconds every time." she shrugged. "He is annoying to me, and I never even talked to him." Sarah laughed for a second at that. "Turn the page?" she begged, feeling quite tired of the current conversation.

"Yeah yeah, of course." He sat back, smiling, daring at some of his bacon. "What's your last name, Sarah? Sorry I never asked.." He didn't want to talk about Sherlock at all.

"Sawyer." Sarah raised her eyebrow. "How's the - dare I call it 'bacon'? - How's your bacon?"

"Sarah Sawyer." He spoke after swalling the plastic-like 'bacon'. He could feel his eyes watering, stifling a cough. "Oh god, that is terrible..like rubber." He smiled, putting his fork down and giving up on the food. "Definitely not coming here again."

"Not me either." Sarah agreed. "And what's so interesting about my name, _doctor _Watson?" she titled her head sideways, looking questioningly at John.

"Oh, just that it's the name belonging to the most beautiful girl on this planet." He shrugged, trying to say it as casually as he could with a playful smile. "Also, I could just picture a Dr Sawyer in the future for sure. Also I quite like alliteration."

Sarah giggled again. "That's the reason I didn't want to became a sawyer as my mother." she grinned a bit sheepishly. "I still think she married my dad just because she found it incredibly funny."

"I think the name has a lovely ring to it. That's just my opinion though I guess." John laughed, smiling downwards. "This is fun. I really like spending time with you Sarah."

Sarah nodded at that and sent a wink towards John. "You still owe me a movie, if I am not mistaken." she grinned. "I would invite you over to my dorm, but my dormmate is there, and chatty as always.."

"Hey, you've seen my dormmate from hell right?" John laughed. "Movie, tonight maybe? Sounds good? Maybe dinner to make up for this awful breakfast?" He suggested with a hopeful smile.

"Why not?" Sarah smiled back. "Cinema, or your place?" she winked again, eyes shining with mirth. "And just for the record -your roommate doesn't force you to talk to him twentyfour-seven, at least."

"My place? I suppose that option's perfectly good too. If you don't mind him. He'll probably get the jist and leave," John supposed. "Who'syour dormmate? Do I know her? Sherlock's like a kid. He'll sulk for days on end. Plays the violin at god knows what time in the morning." He put on an overexagerated frown and micked the younger man's voice, "It helps me think!"

Sarah chuckled. "Maybe it helps him." she grinned, mock-thoughtful look on her face. "Don't suppose you know her. Freshman. Stupid and boring and too chatty." she frowned.

John laughed, looking at her happily. "Who knows? Freshman? No, I doubt I know her then. She got a name?" He asked, just to keep the conversation going.

"I guess she does." Sarah commented teasingly, twirling a strand of hair in between her fingers. "But if she told me, I either didn't listen, or already forgot." she waved it off, not really caring.

He watched her with smile, eyes captivated by her. "Alrighty then Miss Coy." John raised an eyebrow with a smile, sipping his water. God, even that was awful. Warm.

Sarah rolled her eyes. "I would ask you not to call me that, please." she scoffed. "And as nice as the breakfast is.." she grinned fleetingly at John, "I should be going now, if I want to visit the library before the usual crowd of people gets there.." she said in a slightly apologetic voice.

"Sure yeah." He stood up with a nod, clearing his throat. "Not a problem! You go do that studying. I hate it when it's busy." John smiled, "It's been really good seeing you again"

"I would hope so." Sarah grinned. "I will come at seven?" she asked, looking down at her watch to see the time. "That ok?"

"Hmm..maybe I can fit it in to my very busy schedule." John laughed, putting his hands in his pockets. "Sounds great."

"Brilliant." Sarah moved out of the door, tightening her jacket around herself to cover from the cold wind. "If you for some reason can't - like if the Queen wouldn't want to postpone your meeting - just text me." she turned to wink at John, before giving him a wave and walking off towards the library.

"Seeya!" John smiled, going over to pay for the worst breakfast of his life. He went to his pocket and turned his phone on, seeing the message.

**Why? What have you done? JW**

* * *

He proceeded to return to the dorm, walking in with a sigh.

Sherlock scanned the new message, having been rudely awakened from his half-asleep state by the tone, and rolled his eyes. He pushed the cellphone back under his pillow and turned the volume of his music on max, tacking his hands beneath the blanked over his stomach. He closed his eyes again, thinking - he will have to go to London today again. Cheers.

John saw that Sherlock obviously didn't want to be disturbed. A nap wouldn't be too bad, he hadn't gotten much sleep that night.

**Greg, is Molly ok? JW**

He got into bed and faced away from Sherlock, his mind racing back to what happened, the emotion finally catching up with him and he let the tears fall, glad no one would see. John felt his shoulders jerk with the tears, staying quiet. This wasn't fair. Why Richard? John had just stood there like an idiot, doing nothing.

**Seems fine. Asleep. Caught her hard, how're you taking it? Heard Sawyer is back,seen her? -GL**

It took his a while to reply, trying to see the blurry bright screen through the tears.

**I'm ok. Better than I thought I'd be. Poor Molly, I feel for her. Went out for breakfast with her. -JW**

He buried his head in his pillow, trying to muffle the crying. He realised he was being childish but he didn't care. John needed this moment to get it out.

**Molly's strong, she'll be fine. Worry bout urself. -GL**

Sherlock watched John, though he didn't say anything. What could he say anyway? It would probably be best if he staid silent, so he sighed and closed his eyes, because watching Watson so said made him want to tell him Richard/Jim was still alive, and that would be bed.

**I'll be fine. Always am. :) you doin ok? JW**

John tried to fight the sobs but couldn't, thinking that Sherlock might be awake but not turning over to check. Cliché as it was, he honestly did feel like a big part of him had been ripped out. Him and Richard had been through so much. So many ups and downs and now within a couple of days it was nothing but the memories of one guy. The other gone forever. He wasn't used to death. No one he knew ever had died. He didn't think he could eve get used to it. Not when it was this painful.

**Not really. Will be. -GL**

Sherlock really wished John would stop - it made him feel wrong, useless, since he couldn't do anything to stop it. Every time before, when he thought about Jim finishing off Richard, it was always a part of game, new rule, new information, new playground. He never stopped to think about how would people who 'knew Richard' take it, and now it came as a cold blow to his stomach. And he couldn't do anything at all, just pretend he wasn't watching and drown himself in melody.

Sherlock sighed in relief and let himself relax into the bed when he noticed John being fine. That was good. Emotions were scary.

**Of course. -GL**

John felt angry at himself. Did he really spend the last half hour crying? He was a man for christ's sake. He got up to go get himself a beer, not caring how early it was. He just felt like one.

**Sherlock, about tonight? ;) tW**

Sherlock sat up, staring thoughtfully at the screen. No use in pretending to be asleep anymore, after all. He honestly needed to get into London later, but it couldn't hurt, could it..

**Promise to listen to me whining about emotions and to offer advice, if needed? -SH**

He sent it, meaning it as a joke only from a half.

**I'm all ears. As long as you buy. TW**

John opened his laptop and sat back on his bed, putting the beer on the side. A bit of browsing on the Army website wouldn't hurt.

**Of course, that's obvious. Any place you would prefer? -SH**

"When did you get back?" Sherlock looked at John, making it seem as if he hadn't known about him.

**Surprise me ;) tW**

"A while ago." John commented plainly, his face stained with tears but the expression his usual face. He picked up his beer again and took a sip, thankful for it's numbing feeling.

"You don't sound so well.." Sherlock commented with his eyebrows raised. "Everything fine?"

**I have a way to London later, so we can find some restaurant there? -SH**

**Convinient. I'm in London as we speak. Sounds good. Do try and behave – tW**

"I'm fine. Sherlock." He said pointedly, eyes on the screen still, reading about his future line of work and training. He could join the regimental band. Could be good. Break out his old euphonium. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Sherlock just snorted instead of an answer and stood up, rummaging trough his clothes to finds something to wear on a dinner with the left hand of his best enemy. He grinned, hoping black trousers and his favourite purple shirt would be good enough.

**Do you know where is Angelo's pizza? Near the square. -SH**

**I know of it. How about 7pm? TW**

John tore his eyes from the screen to look at his roomate. "Where are you going?"

Sherlock looked at the time - if he left right now, he would be in London at 6. Better would be to go by the next train and he will be either right on time or few seconds late. That was all right. He took the shirt back off, deciding to take a shower before he leaves. "To the bathroom." he shot at Watson, doing just so.

**Perfect. Do forgive me if I am a minute or two late, please. I will try not to. -SH**

After a second, he sent one more message.

**Do you expect me to bring you flowers? -SH**

**Flowers? How adorable. How cliché. I can tell you haven't done this before ;) -tW**

John rolled his eyes, shaking his head. Why did he bother? He just spent his time getting absorbed in the site.

Sherlock rubbed his hair dry with a towel with one hand, trying to text back with the other.

**The reason why I even bothered to pose this question was to see how 'cliché' you were, miss Adler. I take it you don't wish for me to participate in the pop-culture ritual. Fine with me, see you there. -SH**

Clad again in the clothes he had chosen, he moved back into the room, eyes flickering over the form of his room-mate. Sherlock shrugged, since it looked Watson wasn't paying attention anyway.

"You off out?" John tried to sound casual but his voice caught slightly, from the tears he had cried previously though his face gave an air of not caring. He reached for his beer and drank, looking over at him.

"Obviously. Are you sure you are fine?" he raised his eyebrows, frozen in a middle of putting on a sock, balancing on only one leg.

"I'm fine. Go off out." In all honesty, he didn't want Sherlock to go. He honestly wasn't feeling up to his date with Sarah. He just wanted to talk to Sherlock all day about nothing in particular, just hang out with him. Of course, that would be boring or stupid or dumb. Sherlock's exciting life with Moriarty is obviously more important than mundane, menial things. "Seeyou later."

"I still have half an hour." Sherlock shrugged, finishing the process of putting on his socks. "You don't sound so fine, actually." he pointed out, eyes trailed on the reddened skin of John's eyes.

"Oh really? Great deduction." He wiped his eyes quickly, cursing himself for letting them fall again. Man up Watson. Sheesh. He tried to look at the computer screen but it's bright words just became blurred by his tears and he couldn't help it. "Just go out and do whatever the hell you're set out to do.."

"Are you sure? I could.." he sorted trough his saved data to see what the hell was he supposed to do when his room-mate/friend/not-so-secret crush was obviously upset and crying. "make you tea? Or do you want me to buy you chocolate? Though cigarette usually helps more.."

"I'm fine. I just.." He shook his head, his tears cutting himself off. Great. Now he looked like a wimp infront of Sherlock. "I'm fine, Sherlock. Really, I am." He wiped his cascading tears away quickly, knowing than must be thinking less and less of his each second but he couldn't help but feel like wanting to hug Sherlock. Like he'd find comfort in that somehow.

**What do you do when someone you hold dear is upset? -SH**

Sherlock sneakily sent a message to Adler, hoping she will write something sensible and _quick_. "You aren't fine." he pointed out. "Do you want me to buy you the chocolate? Or the cigarette? I have some on me.." he asked rapidly, feeling a bit panicked.

"No.. I don't smoke." He shook his head. "Sherlock, seriously it's fine. Just.. Just forget it, ok?" John looked at the screen again, trying to look anywhere but Sherlock.

**Console them. TW**

**Yes. How? -SH**

"But you are obviously upset." Sherlock frowned at him, moving to stand over him, never looking away.

"Obviously." He mimicked Sherlock's tone, not daring to take his eyes away from the screen, even though he was no longer reading. "Look, this can't be fun for you. This is boring. Emotions? For ordinary people. You find that stuff uninteresting so why the hell are you pestering me? I'm fine! I'm fi-" John raised his voice but his last words caught in his throat. "I'm fine."

"No you aren't, I don't find you boring and I _do _have emotions. How surprising, I know." he commented a bit bitterly. Sherlock checked his cellphone, but Irene obviously thought he could think of something on his own. Well, she was wrong. He sighed and turned to walk into the kitchen, debating making himself a cup of tea or something - if only to kill the time.

"For god's sake I _know_ you have emotions! You sulk! You storm off! You have the most amazing smile when you're happy, usually in the wrong place wrong time but it's brilliant!" He shut the laptop, running his hand through his hair, quickly wiping the tears.

**Feeling sentimental? Feelings are for the losing side tW**

"Well than, maybe I don't appreciate people yelling at me, just because I give a shit!" Sherlock shouted just back, though he moved to sit on the kitchen chair, knees propped beneath his chin as if it would help him to shield himself from the world.

**So? I have five years to get as emotional as I wish. -SH**

**5 years? Why? Didn't anyone tell you? Jim's not interested in your little game at all. He's too obsessed with the third party that pushed him. Once Jimmy gets obsessed with something, everything else doesn't matter. Also, Moran's planning on taking Jimmy down. TW**

"You? You give a shit? About me? Really? That's a bloody suprise Sherlock! You never bloody once said that before! Why the hell would you give a shit about me?" He was angry now, frustrated and the more tears fell.

**It will take Jim up to two months to completely destroy that guy who did that. Why would Moran take Jim down? Raining in paradise? -SH**

Sherlock stared at the message for a moment, trying to ignore John's words. They stung. It was all just stupid and completely unnecessary. He sighed and poked his head trough the door, waiting for Watson to stop talking. "I don't ask you to take me seriously, Watson. And you have no right to ask me about my reasons." he commented softly.

"J-just shut up and go somewhere y-your comments are w-wanted.." He muttered, diving under his covers to hide his tears. He was acting like a stupid teenage girl but he didn't care.

**Usually, the plan would be well on it's way. It's not. Jim's stumped. He's furious. Mental. Killed a guy for just walking past at the wrong time. Little Bassy and Jimmy can be discussed later – tW**

**Jim has every right to be so. If I knew who did that, I would have killed him myself. -SH**

"I can always do that." Sherlock agreed. "I simply misunderstood the way you said that we are 'friends' for meaning it." he added a bit bitterly, but obediently left the room. He actually should leave anyway, to catch the train.

**I think he skinned the guy. Not very pleasant. I need to get ready. See you at 7 – tW**

John emerged from the sheets as Sherlock left, feeling like the biggest twat known to mankind. He didn't want to be alone. He didn't mean to shout. He sighed, watching the door as if he'd pop back in with that smile of his. Why would he? John had been an arse and Sherlock had things to do

Sherlock quickly disappeared into the bathroom before leaving, checking himself in the mirror. He _liked_ that shirt. Though he didn't like just how pale he was - nothing to help with that. He tugged at one of his curls in disgust, but nothing to do with that either. And the bruise on his jaw was almost gone, just a yellowish spot if you knew where to look. That was good. Sherlock nodded to himself and - pocketing his phone and wallet he had had on the kitchen table - left for the train.

John just lay there for awhile, just thinking amd decided to stop moping around and be productive. He got a shower for his date tonight and got dressed.

**Are you ok? JW**

He sent the text to both Greg and Molly, equally concerned for the two of them.

**Busy. Watching a movie ^^ Molly's here as well. -GL**

* * *

At five to seven Sarah knocked softly at the 221-B door, waiting for John to open. She just hoped his annoying room-mate wasn't there, that would be irritating.

John jumped at the sound of the door knocking and rushed over, opening the door casually. "Hey there Sarah." He smiled, "You look amazing!" He was glad Sherlock was gone now and wouldn't be annoying.

Sarah chuckled softly at that, giving him a graceful 'thank you'. She reached closer and pecked both his cheeks. "So the movie now? What did you choose?" Sarah smiled.

"Well..I was wondering what you were in the mood for? We could see a horror. There are some chick-flicks." He gave Sarah a mocking 'PLEEEASE don't choose that' look then smiled. "Sci fi stuff, pixar stuff." John shrugged, closing the dorm door behind him. "What're you in the mood for?"

Sarah thought about it for a moment. "Do you have the Titanic? I have yet to see that and my friend told me it's good." she asked with a smile and moved into the room, looking around. The room was surprisingly.. messy.

"You've never seen Titanic?" John smiled, looking at her with pretend shock before going to get the dvd. "To be honest, I don't see the fuss about it. My sister gave it to me, she loves it. She doesn't like DiCaprio though, which I'm surprised at. Most girls her age like him. His voice annoys." John laughed, putting the dvd. "You want some popcorn?"

"Popcorn?" she looked at him doubtfully, lips curling in distaste. "No thank you." Sarah moved to sit on John's bed - at least she guessed it was his, since Holmes had been sleeping on the other that morning - and waited for him to join her.

"Too cliché?" he laughed gently, sitting next to her as the movie started. He was feeling better now he wasn't so alone. John liked Sarah's company a lot.

"I just don't like popcorn." she shrugged and leaned into John, moving his head onto his shoulder to be able to watch comfortably.

He smiled gently, looking at the screen. Titanic wasn't a bad movie. Just cheesy. Cheesely cheesy. Maybe that was a good thing though? John's eyes moved away from the screen to look at her every once in a while.

Sarah soon got into the movie, clutching at John. It was just so heartbreaking! She sniffed softly, watching the plot with great interest.

John chuckled softly, looking at her. "You want a tissue?" He asked quietly, smiling at her reaction to the movie. He had seen it so many times he could practically quote it.

"No." Sarah rubbed her face into John's shoulder. "How will it end?" she asked with a frown - not that she liked spoilers, but she just wanted to know. It was too sad.

"Well, Jack says Never Let Go. And she says ok. Then he freezes to death in the water and she, like a bitch, let's go. She gets rescued. He's dead." John shrugged, smiling.

"So he dies?" Sarah turned her watery eyes at John. "Really? You know what.. what about watching something else?" she tried.

"You sure you don't wanna see it to the end? We can watch something else if you want." John smiled, getting up and pausing it. "I have Marly and Me but a dog dies." He laughed gently. "What d'you fancy?"

"I am not sure. Something not depressing, preferably." she smiled apologetically. "Romantic comedy or something?"

John bent down to look at the small shelf of dvds. Most of them were, admittidly, Harry's. "Bridget Jone's diary?" He picked the case up and smiled at her.

"Sounds fine." she shrugged. "Mind if I make myself tea?" Sarah asked, standing up and walking into the small kitchen.

"Not a problem. Watch out for Sherlock's experiments lying about. Milk's in the fridge." John smiled before turning back to change the dvd. He was glad she thought it was ok, that he was ok. Everything was gonna feel ok. He cleaned the disk, as it didn't look the best and put it into the player, sitting back down.

"Experiments..?" Sarah repeated and froze in the doorway, hoping she heard wrong. "Nothing explosive or something, right? It _does _smell of burnt skin in here.." she frowned and made careful way towards the counter. "Can I have the Earl Gray?" she looked around at John.

"Sometimes." John shrugged, "You never know with Sherlock." His heart almost sank as he heard the name of tea. "Sure, not a problem." He smiled, looking at his hands. Richard's favourite.

"Are you sure? There is only a bit left." Sarah looked around to look at John. "You and Holmes must be a huge fans." she grinned and put a bit into her cup, waiting for the water to boil.

"It's alright. I don't really drink it. Only when I'm up to it. I prefer the orange box. My nan got it for me when she went to China. She's dead now. Kinda like green tea. Sherlock's not a big fan of it." John smiled, looking over. "Go ahead."

Sarah looked a bit taken aback at the information and poured the water into her cup. "I see." she smiled, moving back onto John's bed. She sat down with leg crossed over the other, sipping the warm liquid tastily.

"You seen this one?" He nodded towards the screen with a smile, looking over at her. Everything about her seemed to fascinate him. She was just unbelievably cute.

"Not yet." Sarah shook her head. "I don't watch movies much." she shrugged. The girl leaned down to set her half-empty cup onto the floor and crawled back to lean against the wall.

"It's alright for a chick-flick. Colin Firth. I guess.." He smiled, wanting to put his arm around her but felt it would just be cheesy. He kept to himself and stayed looking at the screen.

Sarah tried watching the movie, but her thoughts kept on straying. "So where did that guy go off to?" she asked with a nod towards Sherlock's empty bed."

I'm not sure. Probably London. He doesn't come back until really late or in the morning. Or a couple of days." John shrugged, not really knowing.

Sarah gave him a confused look. "You must have it really hard with that guy." she commented, laying her hand onto John's shoulder. "What about you tell me more about your training?"

"It's kinda hard. He really tests my patience sometimes." John looked at her hand with a smile. "Well, the training next week is going to be basic drills, how to properly take care of uniform, 10 mile runs, marching, combat, induction to army medicine. Things like that." John said casually with a happy sigh. "I'll miss you though."

"Some people are really troublesome." Sarah sighed. "Are you sure you feel up to it? I mean - it will be very difficult."

John nodded, his face serious but with a smile. "Yes. It's what I really wanna do. My heart's set on it."

"So the next week you will be away, right? Don't know whatever I will do without you here." she grinned softly and leaned onto her palms cushioned on John's shoulder, gazing at him.

He couldn't help but return her grin, raising an eyebrow. "Oh really..? You're going to miss little ol' me? That's surprising." John returned her gaze, focussing on her with a smile. "I'll come back all ripped and uniformed." He chuckled gently.

"I hope I will be the first one to see you." she muttered silently, smile curling her lips upwards. "So that I can take care of whatever injuries those stupid people did to you."

"In that case..I think I'll come back black and blue, Dr Sawyer." He smiled playfully at her, voice as quiet as hers.

"Oh that would be just horrible." Sarah mock-shivered, though she stifled he laughter into John's shoulder.

His smile widened, laughing. "I dunno, that would mean I would have all your attention. That's worth a few bruises, I'm sure."

"You do have my whole attention." Sarah grinned and circled her arms around John's neck. "Do I have yours, though?" she teased.

"Oh really? I'm not sure..this movie _is_ rather distracting." John teased, despite his attention obviously being on Sarah. "I might need some help."

"I didn't really mean the movie." Sarah teased right back, but leaned so that she was sat in between John and the screen, never stopping the contact. "Better now?"

"Much. I think I definitely prefer this view to Colin Firth." He grinned, putting his arms around her gently. "What was that about you saying you were going to miss me?"

"I said that, didn't I." she commented teasingly, almost touching her nose to John's. "Means I probably meant it." Sarah chuckled and rested her palms over John's chest.

"Mmm I think you did. Maybe..I was a bit distracted at the time. But you've got my full attention now." He kept his eyes on her, his smile not leaving as he felt her hands on his chest. He hoped she couldn't feel his heart as it was going quite fast,

"Do I, now.." Sarah hmm-ed, watching John with a grin. "Well I think I will miss you.. You are the first guy I dated, that didn't try to..do something I was uncomfortable with." she chuckled a bit sheepishly.

"Oh really? What d'you mean..? Have some guys been treating you crap?" He asked, concern in his voice. "I respect you too much, you're brilliant. I wouldn't want anyone to feel uncomfortable ever so.." He shrugged, smiling softly at her.

"No, no." Sarah quickly shook her head, still smiling. "Just that most of the guys don't much respect the personal space. And the 'fifth date' rule." she shrugged again.

"Well those guys are obviously extremely immature and should grow a pair and understand there is actually a fantastic personality behind the looks. And you seriously are beautiful, just saying." John chuckled gently.

"Am I?" Sarah titled her head coyly onto the side. "I am so blushing right now." she grinned.

"Is the pope catholic?" John grinned, "Of course you're beautiful. Even blind men can see that. Not just your outside is though, like your whole personality is amazing. If you're blushing then my face must look like a tomato." He laughed, averting his gaze slightly before looking back at her.

"You are a bit red." Sarah chuckled, pressing the back of her palm against his cheek. "And burning hot." she winked.

"Not nearly as hot as you." He commented with a small chuckle, holding his hand gently which touched his cheek. "You've got doctor's hands. Not too cold." John mused, smiling before letting go of it.

"Most of the time I have _horribly _cold hands." she moved her palms away from John's cheek with a smile. "Though I haven't been outside today, so I have managed to warm them up." she chuckled.

"Ah, I see. Well I'm kinda like a human radiator, I kinda find it hard to get cold." John smiled, "Especially when I'm next to something hotter than the sun itself."

"Compliments will get you nowhere, John, dear." Sarah grinned, though she had a slight flush on her cheeks. "What about you tell me something about yourself, hmm?"

"About myself? Well uhh..I doubt there's much to tell. I play a lot of sports. I do rugby, football, hockey, squash. I think it's fun. I'm into music a lot. Not classical or anything but I can play euphonium." John nodded with a smile. "What about you?"

"I can't play a music instrument to save my life." Sarah giggled. "Mam would sometimes force me to listen to classical music though, it's a bit.. boring." she shrugged. "I sometimes play tennis, but that would be all. See? I am not as interesting as you." she stuck her tongue out.

"Tennis, cool." John smiled, "On the contrary, I think you're very very interesting." He nodded, looking at her seriously.

"Well, I have lived with myself for over 19 years, I don't find myself much interesting anymore." she grinned a bit. "I love meeting new people." she looked at him pointedly, smiling.

"Oh really? Well I hope my novelty doesn't wear off. I really uhh like meeting you." John blushed slightly, smiling.

"That's good then." Sarah smiled widely. "I don't plan on stop meeting you anytime soon. So don't get yourself shot." she winked.

John laughed, "I won't, you don't have to worry. Just training. I'm not going to get shot." He smiled, "Would you treat my wounds?"

"I am afraid you would be shipped straight into a hospital." Sarah pointed out. "And I didn't mean it only for the next week, they will send you into a war zone later, probably.. Dad always says there is not enough army doctors there.."

"I think it's 3 years of training then I'll most likely be shipped out. Afghan, the Fauklands or Iraq most likely. I'll be ok. I'm cautious and with training I'll be alright. Combat training and stuff. Don't worry about me. I'm worried about you! All these young men around campus.. "

"All those young men around the campus can kiss my-" Sarah grinned cheekily. "Most of them is either very stupid, or just basically disgusting." she shrugged. "To find some smart gentleman is a miracle! And see? Miracles happen!"

"Miracle? Pfft. Bad luck more like. I'm hardly a gentleman." John grinned, blushing. "You're the angel here."

"Yup, I am an angel - with burned wings, horns and aura of ashes." she gave him a smug smirk and poked his side. "What's the time anyway? I need to leave at about eleven - have a study-date later." Sarah yawned a bit, rubbing at her eyes with the back of her hands.

"Aww.." John pouted with a small laugh, "A study-_date_?" He looked at his watch. 10pm already? "10:08. You could always study with me sometime. We're in a few of the same classes after all."

"I know." Sarah said a bit sheepishly. "I want to try the one test again, because honestly, 79 is horrible. And you managed to get 100, so at least 83 is possible for me." she grinned. "So I need to study to retry the day after tomorrow."

"It's alright. I don't wanna be the one holding you back. I want you to beat me. Though it's impossible to get 101%" he smiled, leaning back against the wall.

"Too bad, you could have made it your goal in the next test." Sarah giggled. "I am quite satisfied with the second place, though." she smiled.

"I would totally swap places for you." He admitted with a grin. "You deserve top spot. You should get on your way if your date is at 11."

"Really? It's so late already?" she blinked at John, confused. "And I am glad you are first-" Sarah smiled, moving to crawl out of the bed. "Because now can I say I am dating the smartest guy in the school." she gave him a wink and slipped on her shoes.

John sat up, moving off of the bed. "This has been really great, I'm looking forwards to doing this another time uhh..if you want. I hope your studying goes ok."

"Just text me when you have time." Sarah smiled. "We can try to find some restaurant where they can actually cook." she giggled, taking her jacket from the hanger, and stepped into the corridor.

"I've always got time for you." He followed her, leaning on the doorway. "You will be ok yeah? Don't study too hard or overwork that brain of yours."

"I promise not to!" she grinned. "Well, text me anyway. I will see you soon." Sarah leaned quickly to hug him, before walking away down the corridor.

"Seeya" John smiled as he closed the door, leaning against the wall with a smile before going back to his bed, turning the dvd off and washing up his mug. What kinda person goes on a study date at 11pm?

* * *

It was two minutes to seven when Sherlock walked trough the door to Angelo's, having even stopped to smoke before he came there, and looked around.

Irene was sat down at a table in the corner of the room. She wore a black dress, casual yet elegant. She was made up as usual, but otherwise completely undeductable, chosing everything very carefully. A coy smile played to the side of her mouth as she saw the young darkhaired man step in.

Sherlock hummed thoughtfully to himself and after greeting the owner he had met the previous night spent in London, made his way towards the woman. "Hello, miss Adler. You look stunning as usual." he ran his eyes up and down her form, as it was the first time he saw her in person. She really was beautiful. Too bad Sherlock couldn't have fallen for someone like her. "Did you wait long?"

"As usual?" Irene smiled, amused by his comment. "And please, just call me Irene." She watched the man with a playful smile, "I have to say, you look even sexier in real life. I do love a good genius. Brainy's the new sexy." Irene smirked as she sat down. "I've waited longer."

Sherlock drummed his fingers against the table in thoughts, "Jim chose his companions well, I wish I could see the right hand one day as well." he commented, eyes never moving from the other, analyzing her every move. "Have you already ordered what you wanted to drink and eat?"

"No I haven't, I think I want you to order for me. I'm interested, you could say, in this sharp mind of yours." She laughed softly, raising an eyebrow. "Purple suits you."

"Well, as we are in an _Italian _restaurant and I can't really picture you eating with your hands, it will be spaghetti for us both - which means red wine. Though I will have cola." Sherlock commented partly towards Irene and partly towards Angelo who had been closely listening since Sherlock came trough the door. And smiling. Widely and creepily. The guy was just too easy to read - unlike miss Adler.

"Mm. Good idea." Irene smiled, watching him. She lowered her voice slightly, "What's the deal with that guy?"

"I am unsure of which guy do you mean." Sherlock raised his eyebrows, watching Angelo shuffle away from the corner of his eyes. The Italian man returned a moment later with a candle, and by looking around Sherlock noticed him treating _every _two-person guests as a couple. Wouldn't it be fun to take John there some day? Just to see him skittish.

"Nevermind, the only man I find interesting right now is you. How did you find the whole Jimmy going for a swim thing? At first I honestly believed he set that up but he's not an idiot to almost get himself killed. Loves life too much at the moment." Her eyes went down to the candles with an amused expression, returning her gaze to Sherlock. "Good for setting the mood hmm?"

Sherlock leaned his chin against his palm, smiling softly. "It's very interesting Jim hasn't yet been able to catch the guy." he commented. _But maybe you are all looking at the wrong places, the man is somehow connected to John. _"What was it about Moran trying to off Jim, though?" he leaned closer to Irene, disgust marring his features.

"I think so too. Usually, Jim can just hunt them down easily enough but..it's interesting to see him in this situation. He doesn't like this at all." Irene just seemed amused by this fact, her coy smile growing ever more present. "And with Moran," she spoke as if she hated the name as much as the man, "He's getting rather fed up of being some psychotic kid's lackey. He knows Jimmy boy has power but knows he's just barely a man. Apparently he wants out but I don't buy it. There'll be more to it than that."

"Well, if Moran kills Jim, I would have to play with him instead. And he won't like it." Sherlock commented coldly. He paused for a moment when Angelo brought them two plates of spaghetti and two identical elegant glasses, one already filled with Sherlock's cola, the second one empty - the man set the second in front of Irene together with a bottle of red wine. "And I presume Jim is not aware of the danger Moran pose, right." the male rolled his eyes, reaching to pour wine into Irene's glass.

"Moran's not into 'games'. Very straightforward man. Jim's not aware at all, or if he is he's good at hiding it." She picked up her wine glass after Sherlock had finished pouring the red liquid. "He's too obsessed with finding this guy.." Irene laughed gently to herself. "You two really are more alike than you think..emotions, sentiment."

"I didn't mean it as a game where Moran would have a choice to either attend or not." Sherlock's eyes hardened a bit, though his lips curled in a cold smile. "And that's probably why playing against each other will be so much fun." he picked up his glass, raising it in a silent toast.

She simply laughed, "Very alike. Uncanny even. You're both so hellbent on this game that you're both not aware of the dangers your little lapdogs pose." Irene took a sip of her wine, smiling. "I'm looking forwards to watching it all uncoil."

Sherlock titled his head a bit in a nod. His lips formed a grin, when he thought about something. "What would you say, if I wanted you to help me catch the guy who pushed Jim. _Before _Jim does." he raised his eyebrows at Irene, all bad mood and worries about John and emotions fleeing out of the window.

She narrowed her eyes slightly though they were glittered with interest. "Oh? Do go on." Irene smirked, keeping her eyes on his cat-like orbs.

Sherlock grinned at that. "Just to 'enjoy the look of surprise on his face'. And if he doesn't need to worry about that guy, he will hopefully notice 'Bassy' being a threat." he added. "And although words don't mean anything, I want you to promise not to tell the small information I am about to share to Jim."

"Fine by me, I love a good secret." She smiled, listening atentively, "I'm all ears Sherlock." Irene teased, taking another sip.

Sherlock leaned closer over the table, making it impossible for anyone but Irene to hear him. "John let me - few hours ago - to read his messages. Aside from the fact that he doesn't think very highly of me;" he frowned fleetingly, "I found out he has a.. 'secret admirer', who just as you, find it funny to text him. And only the day after Jim got pushed, the person texted him 'I eliminated the threat'. I have a reason to think the person is connected to Jim's accident." he watched Irene, giving her small moment to think about the info. "Though that's not all. Interested?"

"Oh this is too good..there really _is_ a player 3. Please, do go on." Irene smiled, hanging onto Sherlock's every word. Jim would kill a dozen men and a dozen more to gain this information.

"So if I am right, the person pushed Jim because John had been in an immediate danger of being hurt by him. So if, for some reason, the person thinks _I _am trying to either hurt or kill John - and they will, with the help of you - they will try to eliminate me as well. And I will know who they are. There is still quite hight chance I am _not _right, but I would like to go with the plan anyway." he waved it off, as he watched the woman for her opinion.

"So it looks like you gotta be nice to little John or your head will roll too? What I wanna know is why is this guy obsessed with this roommate of yours?" She raised an eyebrow, finding the whole thing very interesting.

"If I wanted to _live _no matter what, then yes. As I want to know who he is, I will have to be the exact opposite of nice. And even go out of my way to make it seem as if I am a danger to his life. That might be quite fun, though." Sherlock grinned. "I am not sure who it is, so I can't know what is his relation to John." he shrugged.

"Jimmy's been having the same idea to get to the mystery person. Except he hasn't got that key. He doesn't know it's about John. He's wrong, obviously. But, if he does know then he won't think twice about making sure John gets a bullet through the head." Irene commented, looking at Sherlock pointedly before taking a sip of wine. "This does look like some fun though. Send me a postcard every once in a while, dear." She mused.

"Give me your address." Sherlock shot right back, amused. "So you are not going to participate, I presume." he raised his eyebrows at her, moving to lean back in his chair. He shuffled his full plate in front of himself, picking up the fork and taking first bite.

"No no. I've got priorities and much bigger fish to fry, thank you. I hope you two have fun though." Irene smiled, moving a bit of hair out of her face, sipping her wine again.

"That's too bad, I was looking forward playing alongside you." Sherlock smiled. He motioned for Irene's own plate. "I don't think cold spaghetti are very tasty."

She picked up her knife and fork gently, cutting up the pasta. "Tough luck, baby. Mummy's busy. I know, you're crushed. Maybe next time." Irene smiled, taking a small bite.

Sherlock returned her grin, falling into a comfortable silence as they both ate. He wondered about his plan and how to start it, it might be actually quite fun - and everyone already thought him to be an ass anyway. It might actually help him get over John as well. The only problem was John leaving the day after tomorrow. He would have to start today, but finish it only after the older returned.

"That is the sexiest look I've seen all day. Seeing those cogs of your turn..must be amazing to be in that brain." She spoke teasingly, keeping her eyes on him.

"Boring, more likely." Sherlock scoffed. "You should know, as you are smarter than you make yourself look. I don't doubt you have your reasons, but you are probably smarter than me." he pointed out honestly, meeting her eyes.

"You flatter me, Sherlock." She laughed gently, taking another forkfull. "Smarter than you..? Well, all men are stupid I suppose. Too over confident, think they are God's gift and can get away with murder. Wait, that's just Jimmy." Irene winked, taking a sip of her wine.

"I feel I have to remind you that he actually _did _get away with it." Sherlock pointed out with a shrug. "Though I am sure his confidence suffered a blow after being almost killed."

"Not the only time. Several dozen. The police are so incompetent." She put her knife and fork down, resting her head on her hand. "Sherlock, you have _no_ idea." Irene couldn't help but laugh gently.

"Of course I don't. Feel free to educate me." Sherlock smiled at her. "Though I didn't doubt from the very beginning that the folder my brother had on Jim was pathetic."

"Well," She started slowly, enjoying it. "I have _never_ seen him so worked up. But see, when he's worked up..he's silent. Doesn't say a word. Normally he'd be either babbling on or trying to work some gane into everything, but..he just sat there. Not saying a word. But when he gets really frustrated, he'll kill anyone 5 feet in front of him. He'll scream, kick up a fuss. Like a psychotic toddler. Moran can get to him. Calm him down. He really is a stupid little child with more money and power than common sense. For his own good, he needs to grow up soon. Just a little."

"I do hope he won't." Sherlock smirked quite evilly, if he had to say himself. "He is entertaining. I _like _him." he emphasised. "And it's really none of my worry what he does in his free time, is it."

"Birds of a feather." She laughed, "I can hear wedding bells already." She smirked, sipping her wine with a small laugh. "Send me an invite. I've got a good dress for that."

"I think Moran wouldn't find it as amusing as you do." Sherlock chuckled. "Though I will remember to invite you, if that day ever comes. More possible would be a funeral, though. But I am sure you can use the dress for that as well."

"Honey, I have a dress for _everything_." She smirked, winking. "Though to be honest, James Holmes doesn't have a ring to it." Irene laughed, "John Holmes however.."

Sherlock laughed at that. "I never doubted you know everything, miss Adler." he nodded her head as a kind of bow. "Though whatever you might think is between me and Mr. Watson, I have to assure you, he doesn't reciprocate my sentiments." Sherlock paused for a moment, cheeky smirk appearing on his lips. "And I never said I wish to keep my last name either."

"Oh?" Irene laughed gently, "Sherlock..Watson.. Hmm" she played the name in her mouth, giggling again. "Has a ring to it. Though..you're not supposed to be luring Watson to put a ring on it. Putting him in danger. Although, that could be the same thing..?"

"It _does _sound nice.." Sherlock muttered thoughtfully, leaning his head onto his palm. He quickly jerked upwards, when he caught himself lost in thought. "He won't be in danger. In five years, he will be far away. Won't know me anymore." he explained softly.

"He'll be getting shot at by the Taliban instead." She commented, grinning. "You fancy yourself a man in uniform then?" Irene teased.

"As I said, John won't know me after we finish school, so it doesn't matter to me what will he be doing. If he gets shot, I won't know." he was slowly growing depressed. Was Adler doing it on purpose? Probably not. "The same way, if I end up loosing our game and dead, John won't be any wiser."

"Awww. So tragic. The hearts of the forbidden lovers being pulled away by circumstance, becoming nothing but mere shadows of their former selves. Good..I hate happy endings. So cliché. This? I could use some popcorn." Irene laughed gently with a smirk.

Sherlock pushed his empty plate towards the edge of the table and leaned onto his palm again, watching Irene in amusement. "You should be an authoress, miss Adler. You would write romantic books, breaking heart of every naive teenage reader, leaving the nation in tears."

"Romance? _Please_. Where's the adventure. Sex, Mr Holmes. That's far more alluring the nation's old dusty reading habits. I've been breaking hearts and causing tears for a long time. More so, I plan." Her rouged lips gave a playful yet slightly devious smile.

"Then I will be careful every time our ways cross." Sherlock smirked. "I heard _your _own heart has been stolen, though." he grinned, taking a sip of his cola.

"Oh really?" She quirked a brow, "Pray tell, who is this supposed thief? What rumour has gone through the grapevine?" Irene ran her finger around the brim of the wine glass.

"That rumour is not that specific, I am sad to note." Sherlock grinned quickly. "Though I have a reason to think it's true enough. Would you like anything else? Tea? Or some kind of a dessert?" he changed the topic, nodding towards Irene's plate.

"Far from the truth, dear. Sorry to dissapoint." She glanced down at the plate but shook her head, eyes teasingly looking at Sherlock. "Hmm..why need dessert when I see something a lot tastier and a lot sweeter." Irene winked, smiling.

"Just let me believe whatever it is I want to." Sherlock answered simply. "So what about we cut our evening together now? I am sure you have far more interesting people to be with."

"I think that would be wise. We should do this again sometime. I've had fun." She stood with a smile, tucking her chair in gently. "I'd invite you for coffee at my place..but I'm a busy woman. Clients to see, business to attend to." Irene gave Sherlock a peck on the cheek, her lipstick remaining there. "Thank you." She whispered gently, knowing they were getting looks from others, especially Angelo.

"I will be delighted to see you again sometime." Sherlock murmured as he opened the door for her, returning inside for a moment to pay for the meal. After saying his farewell to the owner, he changed into the clothes he knew he could freely destroy, and got to work.


	23. Gun Play

**Title: Of Rats and Men**

**Chapter: Gun Play**

**Place: University; London**

**Characters: John Watson; Sherlock Holmes; Adam Ostranski (OC); Police officers; Guardian Assassin**

**Mood: Cruel; Sarcastic; Cold**

**Warnings: Gun Play (obviously)**

* * *

John lay, alone in 221-B, knowing his time there was wearing out. He'd be in Army quarters this time on Monday. Not the stereotypical bunkbeds and dogtags type of thing but close enough. He wasn't looking forwards to the grueling exercise but he knew it'd be a neccesity. John peered down at his phone, it being the only light in the dorm.

**Keep your heart close, John Watson. I will keep it safe for you. Have caution, but no fear. -**

He sighed, resting his head into the familiar cushion more, a part of him wishing that the other was there, doing at least some sort of annoying experiment.

**How's it going? JW**

Sherlock actually stopped to check the text - for a moment distracted from his meeting with the guy he was meeting. The guy was actually quite funny - the worst assassin ever existing, which was actually the reason Sherlock needed him. To make the plan start. And he didn't reply, only grinning wryly. The new game was on.

John knew sonewhere in him that there wasn't going to be a reply. Sherlock would be out all night and John had nothing that needed doing so he changed into just a vest and his underwear, getting into bed and shutting his eyes for the night.

The next step was to hack into Mycroft's mail (too easy, since he knew his passwords) and send a friendly message to John's army base. He didn't delete the mail after that, knowing his brother would be forced to follow 'his own' instruction as well that way.

Sherlock returned to the dormitory in the next morning, around 5, grateful students weren't much morning people for him to meet anyone.

About 7, John woke up. He yawned silently and looked to the side to check that Sherlock was there, which he was. The apparently sleeping form of the other provoked a small smile in John, resting his head back down. At least Sherlock was safe.

**Caution, not fear -**

Sherlock had his alarm clock set on 7:30, since he had to take a shower and get to work. He shot up a bit panicked at the sound, though, looking around wildly, the cold presence of his gun against his back calming him down. He flicked his eyes towards John, forcing a mask of indifference onto his face and moved into the bathroom to clean himself a bit.

He sat up with a small sigh and a yawn, running his hand through his hair and he got himself out of bed and over to the bathroom to splash water in his face. He returned and looked over at Sherlock, a slight smile appearing on his features. "Hey," John started gently, "You awake?"

Sherlock frowned instead of giving an answer, having to remind himself to play according to his plan - and it was difficult, so very difficult, when he had to keep himself from smiling ever so happy to see John. He put on clean clothes, rubbing at his cheek where Irene's lipstick was still a bit visible, it being some water-proof kind or something. He hoped it will come off soon. It was irritating.

"Hello?" John spoke, sat on his own bed. "You there, Sherlock?" Was he still in a mood with him..? He noticed the red on Sherlock's cheek. "You had a date last night..?" He didn't even know where the other had gone. London possibly?

"I don't see any of that being your business, Watson." Sherlock shot back with cold amusement. He picked up his cell phone, having to take care of Lestrade first.  
**I have a favour. -SH**

**You know there is little what I wouldn't do for you. -GL**

**Yes, I count on that. I need you to stop talking to me, stop texting me, stop talking about me if you can help it, until I say otherwise. -SH**

"Sheesh. Alright." John spoke with a dignified nod. "I didn't wanna know anyways." He walked to the kitchen to get himself a cup of tea.

**Would you like to meet with me? -**

**No. No I wouldn't. Leave me alone. JW**

**But I am your salvation. I have eliminated 34 threats to you. You are welcome. -**

John looked at his mobile, shaking his head in disbelief before looking at Sherlock, then replying.

**Sure. 5pm? JW**

**The roof. Closer for me to come down from heaven. Angel, remember? -**

**Right. Yeah. JW**

Sherlock watched John with aloof amusement - the older should get to know his little assassin friend today, probably around the noon. He had not doubts John will be able to protect himself, beat the guy up and even get the guy to tell him who paid him.

**Why? -GL**

**You can't know. Just do it, I left your clothes in front of your dorm. Don't tell anyone. Thanks for being my friend. -SH**

**Ok, good luck. Be careful. -GL**

**Don't for a moment think I don't hold affection for you, Greg. I do love you. -SH **_Though not in the way you wanted me to.. _Sherlock switched his cellphone off. John's army base should try to get a hold of the male soon as well. Things were going nice.

John smiled at his phone gently, glad he now would be able to confront this angelic stalker once and a while. He went and made his bed, picking up his things, getting changed and grabbed his textbooks on his way to the library without saying a word to the taller.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Sherlock let himself slump into the bed tiredly. It was far more difficult than he expected to act hostile towards his flatmate. And that wasn't even the worst part he would have to act. Sighing, Sherlock crawled under his covers, deciding to sleep for a bit.

**Do you wish for me to eliminate the major threat, John? -**

John was just outside the library as he got the text.

**What threat? Who? JW**

**Sherlock Holmes. I can eliminate him. His brother also poses threat. -**

**No. Don't. Just wait and meet me. How about sooner? 1pm? JW**

**Very well. -**

As Sherlock slept, Adam Ostranski - an assassin for living - made his way onto the GPS coordination his current boss gave him. It was an university. Surprisingly he didn't have any problems getting in, they even let him inside of the library where he spotted his target. It was just too easy. He walked towards the small male, trying to look friendly, hand over his gun. "You study here?" he asked.

John looked disgruntled up from his book, eyes looking over the seemingly friendly man. "Obviously, I don't read textbooks for fun. Who're you?" Ever since the mysterious texter, John had become more cautious.

Adam reached to scratch the back of his head sheepishly. "I was kind of looking for someone and got lost.." he muttered, trying to look as embarrassed and lost as he could, with his limited acting skills.

"Oh ok. Who are you looking for?" He raised an eyebrow but eased gently as he felt less nervous than the other guy looked. "I can help y'."

"Richard Brooks." Adam grinned, repeating the one name his boss told him to use. That guy was supposed to be some kind of a friend to his target, aware of Adam's job.

"Ri-.." Hearing that name, John's smile or any look of friendliness dissapeared. "No point looking here. He's de-.." John took a while to say it, trying to compose himself. "He's dead."

This time Adam didn't have to pretend his shock, staring at the student completely thrown off. "R- really? What?-" he caught himself quickly, he had work to do - no reason to dwell on his boss's weird instructions. "Can you tell me what happened? Outside?" he pointed towards the 'silence in library' signs.

"Sorry. Who the hell are you? I've never seen you before. Me and Rich..we were close. I would know you." John frowned, getting annoyed, standing up, taking his bag and going outside like the stranger suggested

"I am Adam Ostranski." Adam offered his hand to John for a shake, following after him. When outside, he started towards rather calm part of the campus, quite sure no one will be there at that time. "I never met him, I am not from England." he offered truthfully, adding his boss's info for the second time: "We were supposed to play brothers in a short movie and the director wanted us to meet before, so that we will feel comfortable in each other's presence.." he trailed off, rubbing his palm into his eyes.

"Oh. I getcha. Well, tell your director they'll have to recast... Sorry. I.." He sighed, shaking his head. "He was a good man. Good actor. Seen his work? He did part time on this hospital drama. Really good." He shook the man's hand. "Ostranski? I'm John Watson."

"How did that guy even die?" he asked carelessly, when they were far enough from any other people. "Must have been a stupid death indeed.. Not quite as stupid as yours, though." he reached into his jacket for his gun.

He clenched his fists, ignoring his comment but looked back at him confused. "My death? What the hell do you mean by tha-?" John stopped when he saw him go for his jacket. "You kidding me..? What the hell did I do?"

"I don't know what you did, boy." Adam shrugged, pulling the gun out. "But I've got m' orde's." his voice dropped into the usual rough tone of street, but he had yet to aim, frowning as he was unable to flick off the safety - the gun.. was it possible for it to be non-functional? But he had gotten it from the boss himself, it should be fine!

"Orders? Who the fuck would wanna kill m-..?" John stopped to think but realized he had no time for that so he quickly socked him hard in the jaw, tackling him and taking the gun, aiming it at the guy, stamping on his face and keeping it down. "Who is your orders from?"

Adam startled at that, gazing wide-eyed at the student. He didn't want to die. "I donno tha name.." he muttered pitifully.. "Said yoorz and some ota's guy's..'bout that one.." he tried to be helpful, as not to get shot himself.

"Did you get a look at him?" He spoke through gritted teeth, his anger rising. "His voice? Anything? I won't hesitate to kill you." John's hand was steady on the gun as he kept it to the failed assassin's head, his trainer pressing hard against his skull.

"No! No.." he shook his head rapidly. "I'll tell you 'verythin'.. just put it.. put it 'way.." he flicked his eyes at the gun. "He said s'thing wei'd. He said: 'he made the same mistake twice.. to trust his enemy.. to hold him close.. and the first time - Jim had to die. But the second, it will be him who will end up dead.'" Adam quoted a bit shakingly, what he heard the weird young guy say to himself.

"Fine. " John pushed the guy against the wall, putting the gun in his back pocket. "What..? What the hell was that about? No name? At all? How much did he pay you?" He slapped the man hard. "Tell me."

"Not much.. but enough.." Adam muttered, looking away. "Int'restin guy that one.. Pretty." he smirked, licking his lips in an obscene gesture. "Like a porc'lane doll. Smok'd a lot." the man shrugged. "Deep voice. Didna say 'is name."

"Sh-sherlock.." He let the guy go, stepping back in slight shock. The description matched Sherlock perfectly "Just go. Get out of here before I put a bullet through your head." John sighed shakily.

Adam scrambled onto his feet, giving a nod. He turned around and fled, the student honestly look as if he meant it. He didn't know who was his boss, or who was the target, or what the relationship between them was. And he didn't want to. He just wanted to run far, far away so that the 'Sherlock' guy would never find him to ask why he didn't finish the work.

John left his bag and his books there, racing to 221-B. He knew Sherlock would be there and he stormed the door open, grabbing the taller by the collar and shoved him hard against the wall. "You want to kill me? Huh? You wanna kill me? Well then! You fucking COWARD." John pushed him, letting go and throwing the gun at him, opening his arms wide. "You've got a shot!" He yelled angrily, eyes glowering at him.

As soon as the failed assassin left campus, the sniper aimed his rifle immediately at the man's head, pulling the trigger and managing the crack shot. Dead.

Sherlock smiled wide, happy smile, careful to make it reach his eyes. He didn't fight. "Oh that would be no fun." he commented coldly, dropping his voice a bit lower. He copied Irene's usual way of talking, letting each syllable slid out roughly. "And I didn't want to blow up the 'friends' charade so soon.." he pondered over that, titling his head a bit sideways. "Do you want to hear something?" he taunted cheerily.

"Ch-charade?" John repeated, his anger and frustration spiraling into shock and confusion. He glared at him, completely shocked by Sherlock's complete change in behavior "I'm listening." He said firmly.

"Of course you are." Sherlock smiled, talking so low he was almost whispering. "Aren't you always? What did you think, that I let you fuck me just because I liked you?" he laughed Jim's laugh, eyes lighting with a cruel undertone. "Though now I know everything I needed." he winked.

"What.. what the hell is all this? This isn't you.. what are you playing at?" He shook his head, a slight smile of disbelief forming over his angry features. "I.." Whatever smile he had faded. "Don't. Just Stop this. Stop. You're.. making this up." He was almost trying to convince himself of that. "So.. we did have sex then? I don't understand.." John rubbed his forehead in frustration. "What do you mean by that? Know everything you needed? About what? Stop this."

"I forgot just how dense you were." Sherlock commented in disgust. "And so stupid.. you never even suspected what I was doing." he grinned the same cold smile again, making few steps to cross the distance between him and John, towering over him. "So listen carefully, Johnny-boy.." he leaned to whisper into John's eyes, brushing his lips against his ear-shell. "I was never trying to play against Jim.. Why should I? We are on the same side."

He moved away from Sherlock's touch immediately but kept his control and his glare set on him, despite his confusion. "W-what..? You're working with Moriarty?" John couldn't believe what he was hearing. "So.. if I'm so dense please enlighten me what you've been doing this whole time? What have you been trying to find out? Gain from this? Why bother with me? I'm just.. John Watson. Not some part of this bloody game. Are you involved with all these stupid text messages?"

"At first, it was because Jim found you quite entertaining.. That's curious, isn't it.. you are ordinary." Sherlock reached to John, catching his chin into his fingers, gazing at him steadily. "But then.. then there was the accident. Because of you." he sneered, narrowing his eyes. "Jim got hurt because of you." Sherlock tightened his grip on the older male painfully, ugly smirk titling one side of his lips upwards.

"Wh-what? How the hell could Jim get hurt because of me? I've never been involved with that guy! Ever! So jus-" He hissed almost, in pain. He tried to struggle from Sherlock's grip, eyes widening in shock at how the other look, the dynamic change. He had tried to murder him with an assassin. would he do it now? He tried to kick Sherlock away.

"Oh don't bother struggling, Johnny." Sherlock chuckled coldly. He reached beneath the back of his shirt where he kept his own - functional - gun and pressed just the tip beneath John's chin. "It will just be an accident." he whispered, as if excited by the prospect. "Jim is.. otherwise occupied now, so he can't stop me from ruining his little toy." he teasingly licked the skin of John's cheek. "Adam got to you and shot you, before I could stop him.. I ran after him and shot him, wouldn't Jim be glad to know that I avenged his play-thing?" he played with the words.

John froze up entirely, shaking and going pale though he tried to stay calm. This.. this was just unreal. 100% unreal. He was going to die. Sherlock, who he had even thought was his friend, thought he had actually cared about him and now.. it was all to kill him? He couldn't take this. "Y-..y-y.." He tried to speak but his tongue was dry as he looked away, anywhere, any form of escape. John's eyes went back to Sherlock cautiously, as if one look would kill him for sure. "Wh-..I..I didn't even know Jim! I.. Stop this Sherlock! For Christ's sake this isn't funny!" He yelled, struggling again and kept his eyes closed, tight. "S-stop this.." He almost prayed that the weird freak of a stranger who kept on texting him would hurry up and come to his rescue in some sort of way. "Wh-what the hell do you gain from killing me? I haven't done.. I h-haven't.." His words almost became whispers, worried, struggling again.

"Of course you haven't done anything." Sherlock whispered, though there was a hint of anger in his voice. "So why is Jim so obsessed with you, that he almost died just to get close to you? You are ordinary, you aren't smart, you aren't pretty, you aren't fun!" his voice was slowly raising, anger burning trough his veins. "Why did he? He has us! Us to play with, we gave him everything, our souls, our hearts - everything!" Sherlock just hoped Jim wasn't listening, that would be mortifying. The criminal would probably record him and set it as his ring tone. But - wasn't that actually part of Moran's problem? That Jim was more interested in Sherlock, than in his ever-so-loyal right hand? "So why can't he pay attention to us, who can at least count to ten! Why bother with ordinary people!"

"I..I dunno do I? I don't know what goes through both of your twisted minds!" He yelled angrily, feeling his eyes burning. "Just let me go Sherlock." John struggled as he spoke, "Let me go now! I'll leave. You never have to see my ordinary little face again and you and Jim can be happy! I..I j-..." His eyes went to the gun and he glared. "If you're gonna do it then fucking do it already! GO ON." He stopped stuggling, his breathing heavy as he shook, the adrenaline rushing through him.

"Oh don't worry, pet. I will. Though I would like to see you think, before you die." he clicked the safety off, pressing flush against the older male. "I want you to realize where you met Jim. Think. Now." Sherlock ordered and trailed his nails down John's jaw. "You have all the data you need. I don't know, I might even let you go, if you do."

John felt himself shudder in discomfort, mind racing desperatley. "I..I don't.. I've never met Jim! Haven't you heard me? I think I would have remembered a psychopath like that!" John racked his brain desperatley for any idea. He found none as he tried to think of Jim's physical description, what Sherlock had said. "You said he got in an accident amd hurt himself because of me? The only person I can think of that is Richard. That's not Jim though."

"Think, darling." Sherlock mocked, tracing small circles on John's skin with the tip of his gun. "The longer you talk, the longer you live." he sang, smirking widely. "And if you tell me.. if you tell me, I will let you live.. So think.. Think for your life, Johnny, no one can help you, but you."

"What has gotten into you? This. This thing, this isn't you. Sherlock. " John tried his hardest to think, think back to everything said about Jim, everything he read. He had pieces but couldn't see where they joined up. He couldn't take Sherlock so he'd have to stall.

"Oh what I showed you was a mere disguise." Sherlock waved it off. "You really think anyone could be so pathetic? What? You insult me on a daily basis, always push me away, punched me - I even had to stitch myself! - and you even bad-mouth me! I mean, why would I endure all that and be your _friend_?" he let out the word in obvious distaste. _Oh really, I _am_ pathetic, am I not_..

John continued to look at the gun, frozen in place still, feeling as though his legs were concrete. His heart felt that way too as it sank. Of course.. Sherlock was right. John had fallen for just some disguise. Fallen in more than one way. He tried to speak, to say something but he couldn't find any words.

"Oh you are silent, so you are finished?" Sherlock toyed with the gun in his hands, he moved it a bit sideways, so that it was aimed at wall and pressed the trigger, almost twitching at the loud 'bang'. "Or do you have anything more to say, love?" he pressed the tip back to John's neck, really hoping John's little saviour heard the shooting and will come to the rescue - soon, since the only thing Sherlock wanted was to hug John and beg him to forgive him.

John flinched at the sound of the gun shot, unable to say anything at all before looking sideways at Sherlock. "Sherlock. Sherlock think. Stop this.. I ju-"

John was cut off by the door slamming open and 3 police officers storming into the room, holding their own guns and aimed at Sherlock. The oldest police officer stepped forwards, "Put the gun down, now son!"

John felt a pang of relief wash over him, giving a shakey sigh.

Sherlock grinned a bit - the possibility of Police being competent for once and getting there _before _John's 'friend' didn't occur to him. But it was easily solved, he slowly reached into his pocket and waved Mycroft's ID at the men, giving an apologetic smile to their leader. He had met him before, helped him solve some cases, so the old man should remember him. "I apologise for causing such a chaos, sir." Sherlock said in a gentle voice, never moving his eyes or gun from John. "This is a delicate issue of national importance, my brother should have texted you the warning.. I am sorry, it must have gotten lost on the way. Could you please leave? I will personally stop by later to inform you.

"John's eyes opened wide in fear and disbelief. He really _was_ going to be killed and Sherlock would get off it scott free.. He wanted to call out to the police but his whole body was numb out of fear, his jaw locked tight.

The police officer put the gun away and nodded. "Alright. Just got a call saying shootings and yelling was going on, we got some guy dead out the front of campus - you know about that?" The other police left, leaving only the older who would follow shortly.

"I don't know anything about that." Sherlock fleetingly sent a confused frown towards the officer, before he looked back at John with a hard smirk. "How did he look like, sir, if I may know?"

The man nodded, "Male, in his 20s. We asked staff, not a student. Alright then, come by later Holmes." He walked out quickly, shutting the door and John let out shuddery breathe, his emotions - anger, fear, frustration, confusion, getting to him. "Q-quick on your feet.."

"So back to you, Johnny, dear." Sherlock smiled. He reloaded the gun, since he hadn't done it yet. "Now, tell me.. tell me." he taunted, twining his free hand into the front of John's shirt.

"I..I don't know, Sherlock. I don't know! I'm the idiot, y-you're the smart guy so just either tell me or shoot me!" He yelled, voice breaking at the end. He looked at the floor, unable to make eyecontact.

Sherlock gripped him hard with both hands, smacking John's body into the closer desk, making it turn onto it's side. He held John upright and shoved him back against the wall. "Wrong answer love. Try again." he sang.

John grunted in pain, eyes weak but kept his glare at Shelock, struggling. "No. No I won't Sherlock." If he was gonna go, he would go making a stand. Not grovelling, screaming or crying. On his terms. He wouldn't give Sherlock the dissapointment.

"Oh you are just being boring.. Don't do that to me, try to guess." he waved the gun in front of John's eyes, before aiming it at trough open window and out. "We don't want anyone _else _dying just because you were troublesome, do we.." he smirked, pressing the trigger.

Anyone else.. couldn't let anyone die. He genuinley couldn't think though. Jim Jim Jim. He'd never met the guy. John thought back to what Sherlock said earlier.. "Jim. If I've met him, it'll be under an alias. An accident I caused? Only Richard I can think of. But he can't be Jim. That's Rich. Rich's dead..I've known him for years."

"That's a bit better, think ahead!" Sherlock urged him with a grin, now more leaning against the older than holding him up the wall. "I will be waiting for the alias. We have a lot of time." he said in almost husky voice, low and rough.

John thought, though Sherlock's close contact hindered it, despite his circunstance he felt himself blush. "Alias, someone I know. Anderson? Lestrade? The only guys I really know..I..yeah. One of them?"

"Don't bother guessing, love." Sherlock whispered, moving his fingers up to run them down over John's eyes, to make him close them. "Just tell me one name. Only one. And the right one." he murmured into his ear.

John shiverred, keeping his eyes shut as he felt his heart race and breathing harden. Accident. Alias. Only one name, though unbelievable. What had Sherlock said before..? When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth..

"Richard." John spoke low and spoke hoarse, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Oh aren't you smart when you have to." Sherlock exclaimed happily, pecking John's cheek, though his eyes remained cold and unchanging. "Now, now.. second question, pet. Who were you supposed to meet today, hm? You wanted to go and meet someone, your girlfriend? Your friends? Hmm?"

John's mind was racing, Jim had been Richard? He had been through so much with him that he actually felt like he was going to puke. All of it was a lie. Since secondary school, through sixth form.. Had gone through Jim's first girlfriend, his first stuttery preformance of Hamlet onstage. He took John to his first ever gig, got him into all the bands he liked, helped him with his english courses. An elibrate alias indeed. All under John's nose for years. He had almost been too in thought that he forgot Sherlock and the whole world before snapping back to reality. "No one. I was just going to study. Maybe text Sarah.."

"That's good then, no one will miss you this way." Sherlock leaned to whisper, once again brushing his lips over John's earlobe. "Are you up for another question?" he asked tauntingly and moved so that he could see John face-to-face, giving him a bright-eyed smile. John _did _say something about liking his smiles, so he will get those. All a big, big game.

John went pale, feeling sicker but his anger rose. "No more stupid games! Stop this Sherlock!" He managed to push the younger away, running to the other side of the room, trying to get into his draw where he kept the gun he stole from his uncle but his knees failed him, falling to his knees, holding onto the bed for support. He wanted to get out, get away from the skinny lunatic but couldn't.

"Oh don't bother." Sherlock walked slowly towards him, shoes clicking against the floor. He briefly looked out of the window, for the first time thinking that maybe, _maybe _John's stalker won't come. But the guy killed Adam, so either he had been there, in the alley, but Sherlock would have seen him. That left the roof and a sniper gun. He carefully stood, so that John was between him and the window, just in case. He crouched in front of John, prodding him with the gun. "The door's locked anyway." he lied.

John tried to control his breathing, feeling faint. He looked at the gun, "Stop being an idiot. You're not gonna shoot me. If you were, you would have done it by now to be with Jim. You're a skinny bastard who doesn't scare me. Even with a bloody gun to my head. So just shut the fuck up and either grow a pair and shoot me or run off to Jimmy."

"As you wish." Sherlock murmured, slipping the vial with chloroform from his pocket. He moved it beneath John's nose before the older could notice and quickly pulled the trigger, aiming at the wall again. He let John's limp body fall onto the floor and stood up, pulling the gun back onto it's place against his lower back.

John slumped to the floor, his world going black as the gun shot went off.

A few minutes later, the door to 221-B opened and a young man walked in, wearing a suit. He was Japanese, his hair spiked and layered, short and a dyed auburn. He closed the door gently, not making a sound. "Please step away from him."

Sherlock moved to sit onto his bed comfortably, gazing the young man over. "Hello there." he said cheerfully, clicking his phone to send the last message. "And no, he isn't dead, if you wanted to ask." Sherlock commented carelessly.

"Hello. And come on Mr Holmes, I know he isn't dead. Your room smells of chloroform." He put his hands behind his back, looking around. "I didn't expect it to be so tidy." The man'a cold gaze returned to Sherlock, going down to John's body. "Can you make a deduction? Of me? Go ahead. Try it."

"Oh no, thank you. Why waste my words when you are so excited to tell me all about yourself." Sherlock waved it off without care.

The man rolled his eyes, "I don't wish to tell you anything. I'd rather my identity be kept quiet. I have a few friends who usually come out on my behalf. Saints." He crouched down, smiling softly as he looked at John's face, moving a bit of hair from his closed eyes before standing up again and shot Sherlock in the arm without hesitation or noise, the pistol having a silencer on it.

Sherlock screw his eyes shut for a second, though he remained quiet and unmoving. "So you don't want to kill me just yet, how interesting. What do you say - I answer one of your questions, when you answer one of mine." Sherlock smiled trough the pain, careful not to make it seen.

"Very well. I have a right to withhold information if I do not feel like sharing, however." He agreed, eyes going from Sherlock to John. "What is your affiliation with James Moriarty?"

"And do you want the honest or diplomatic answer?" Sherlock titled his head curiously, amusement flickering in his eyes.

"Honest." He spoke calmly, his voice remaining calm, angelic. The man kept the gun still. "But I believe I asked a question."

"Yes you did, I was just unsure as to how to answer it." Sherlock answered in exactly same tone of voice. "Jim Moriarty is my opponent, arch-enemy, play-mate, nemesis. Call it whatever you want. I play the black pieces and he plays white." he offered. "Now my question. Are you a threat to me, if I am not a threat to John Watson?" he asked in interest.

"You are a threat to John. You're dragging him into these petty 'games' with Moriarty. He's going to get hurt. I can't let that happened. I eliminated Richard Brooks as Moriarty's direct threat to John. A few days time he was planning on assasinating him. To 'mess with you'. He was going to play his knight, but I intercepted with my bishop, you could say. I cannot allow harm to come to him. You are going to bring harm to him. You are a threat, you need to be eliminated."

"And you talk like a bad-programmed robot." Sherlock snapped back, moving onto his feet. He started pacing the room. "John was dragged into this only by the fact that he was unfortunate to share a dorm with me. And for some reason Moriarty saw it fit to become his 'best friend'. I was aware of that. Though I can assure you that in few weeks John will start his training as a soldier, he will be in no way connected to me anymore. He will be out of our war, I would never let him join." he said fiercely, for a moment forgetting about the burning pain in his arm. "Well - I suspect he will leave as soon as he wakes up anyway and never talk to me again, so.." he waved it off carelessly, though he felt cold and emptiness fill him up.

"Knowing who you are.. I will accept that as truth." The man nodded. "Very well. I will let you have your war, only because I wish to see Moriarty crash and burn." He kept still, putting his gun away. "I know him, what he is like. He'll try to get contact with you again, try and patch things up. He likes you. More than he lets on. So you will push him away. Forget him."

Sherlock nodded a bit shakily. "I am aware you probably saw our whole exchange. It had two purposes - to get you come talk to me and do something horrible enough for John to leave me no matter how hard I beg him to stay. Because I would." he acknowledged. "Let me tell you two things, though. One - if you were the one who pushed 'Richard', I would have you tied up and sent to Jim as a gift. As you are not, I will let you leave. And second - you guys should think about _how _you protect John. You are a threat to him now as well, the police found the body of Adam Ostranski, shot, and covered in John's fingerprints. With John having the gun, previously owned by the 'victim', who do you think would be in an immediate danger of getting arrested for murder?" he asked softly, eyes boring into the other male's.

"That will be no problem. I have strong links with the police. They won't even think about John with their inquiry. It will be a suicide. Down on his luck, far from home. Couldn't take it. Suicide." The man commented. "I will continue to look after John. If you come near him again, my aim will not be as sloppy. Understood?"

"Oh no, not that fast." Sherlock gave him a cold look. "Don't for a second think I am listening to your 'conditions'. I am merely doing whatever it is to keep John safe and happy. But if you really want to 'look after' him, you will have to have someone _talk _to him. Don't forget that." he moved back to his bed, fishing up a suitcase from beneath it. "I will have you informed that due to.. certain e-mail, John's base will undergo my brother's inspection in the next week, John's training has been therefore postponed. Because of that, it will be _me _leaving this evening."

"You're going? Good. Where are you going? Why? How long?" He crouched down to John again, eyes soft on the older man's features. His hand went to John's neck gently, moving his hand under John's chain to feel his pulse.

"You don't need to know anything about my whereabouts." Sherlock raised his eyebrows at him and finished stuffing his clothes into the case. He quickly tapped another message to Lestrade, since he didn't want the man to barge in right now after all.

His eyes never left John as he spoke. "He deserves better than you. All of this." The man stroked John's face gently before standing up and heading to the door. "Very well. Just leave him alone."

Sherlock snorted. "You say that as if I didn't already know." he commented in amusement, tying his scarf over the bullet-wound on his arm to stop it from bleeding, he was already feeling light-headed. "Just one last question - why are you interested in John?"

A small smile played on the mans lips, looking down at the man. "I owe him, everything. I found my life's purpose now. To look over him. I am his gaurdian angel." He looked off, before his smile faded. "Nice meeting you." The man left the dorm quickly.

"That's really pathetic, to live your life for someone else. Kill for someone else. One life is not more valuable than the other." Sherlock commented thoughtfully into the deserved room, putting on his clothes. He made his bed and closed the now empty cabinet, looking back for the last time before he left.


	24. Morning After II

**Title: Of Rats and Men**

**Chapter: Morning After II**

**Place: University**

**Characters: John Watson; Mycroft Holmes; Sarah Sawyer; Gregory Lestrade**

**Mood: Cruel; Sarcastic; Cold**

**Warnings: Mycroft**

* * *

A while later, John awoke from his unconcious state, his mind a massive blur. He sat up, remembering Sherlock, what he had done. Had he been shot? No. No.. He looked around, standing up shakily. Sherlock had gone. He went to his bed, grabbing his phone.

**I need to talk to you now Greg. JW**

He didn't know who else on earth to turn to. He was on the verge of screaming or breaking down, his whole body in shock, his fingers barely responding.

**Be there in a sec. -GL**

Greg made his way towards the dorm - for the second time that hour - feeling a bit confused. He knocked onto the door, looking around. Why was the doorknob freaking _bloody_? He blinked, only then noticing the stench of gun powder and chloroform coming from the room. _What_?

John was sat, he mummbled loudly enough for Greg to get the message to come in, on his bed trying to stay up right. He felt dizzy still and his body was in shock from everything that had happened. Everything went from fine to everything he knew was a lie in a heartbeat.

"John? Care to explain wha-" Greg froze mid-word, looking around. "Why is there a gun?" he pointed onto the one on the floor, before his eyes strayed towards Sherlock's bed, already wondering where the youngest wandered off too. He _did _contact him about three hours ago. "Why is there blood on Sherlock's bed? Where is he?"

Sherlock made his way from the road towards a lake, few miles away from the university and threw his suitcase with his belongings into it. He kept only some money and Mycroft's untraceable credit card. He had deleted the information tree even mentioning his name from all databases his brother had access too, so his phone and laptop could now follow as well. Smiling grimly, he went to hike another car to London.

John didn't hear Greg, his face pale and his mind almost frozen, trying to process what happened. When his mind came together a bit, his scared eyes went slowly to Greg. "H-he's gone." His voice was hoarse but he tried to sound as normal as possible.

"I can see that. Where to?" Greg said calmly, moving to take a look at the rest of the room. Sherlock's drawers were empty. Experiments gone. The only thing beneath his bed was second gun. Bloody. He took it out with only his index finger and thumb. "Must have dropped that. That's Sherlock's." he pointed at the small silver mark near the trigger. "Why is it bloody?.. and not loaded?" Lestrade added when he pulled out the magazine.

"I-I..I don't know." John spoke, hiding his face. "I don't.." He didn't know anything anymore. Richard was Moriarty. Sherlock had been working with him the whole time. Two people had just tried to kill him.

Lestrade moved to crouch in front of John. "John, tell me, what happened. All details, everything." he urged him, dropping his voice in tries to soothe him.

He pulled his hands away and took a deep breath. John looked at Lestrade and gave a sigh, starting to explain everything. Everything, slowly and quietly. All from the assasin Sherlock had hired, to Sherlock threatening him, pulling the gun to his head and everything he said.

Lestrade's eyes widened with every word, though he remained quiet until John finished. "That's a.. a lot to take.." he closed his eyes for a moment. "Though I knew there was something.. wrong with Richard and Sherlock.. After he texted me.. wrote Richard can't be dead because he never existed in the first place." he sighed.

"He wasn't real..10 years. I knew him.." He shook his head. "I don't know what to do Greg. What do I do..? I..How can I even trust you?" He moved away immediatley.

"That's easy.." Lestrade laughed softly. "You can't. But Jim.. Jim is someone, he was always brilliant actor." he closed his eyes with a sigh. "Looking at it backwards, it's.. to be expected.." he whispered.

"The best actor... He deserves a bafta." John sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm being a twat. I'm not staying here much longer. I'm gone tommorow.."

"Yeah, the training." Lestrade sighed. "You are all leaving, it will be just me and Molly then.." he trailed off into a whisper. He shook his head. "So you don't know what happened after you and Sherlock.. talked?" Greg frowned, moving onto his feet.

"No.. He used chloroform on me. I woke up, he wasn't there." John explained, rubbing his his forehead. He just needed to leave, needed to go.

"Chloroform when he threatened to kill you?" Lestrade raised an eyebrow at that. "And by the way, Sherlock's gun didn't have bullets. It just made very, very loud noises." he informed, waving with the aforementioned object. "And someone else was here and it was all a part of Sherlock's plan." Greg muttered when he ran his eyes over the floor, making long step to overstep something only he could see.

"Someone else? J-jim?" John stood up, watching Lestrade move. "Who else..? D'you know?"

**Where are you? You said you'd meet me -**

He sighed shakily, putting his phone away. "I gotta go. I'll be back later."

"Donno who, but he either shot or stubbed Sherlock. See the blood? On the bed, and there are drops on the floor as well - they talked about something important, Sherlock has a habit of pacing." Lestrade pointed at the mentioned parts of the room, before he blinked and looked at John. "You sure? Maybe you should just stay here and rest or something." he shrugged.

"They shot Sherlock." John shook his head, not caring. "I'll be ok. Sorry." John ran out of the room, going as fast as he could but his legs failed him and he fell in the courtyard. He got up again, painfully but made his way to the roof.

Lestrade let out another sigh and slumped onto John's bed - since Sherlock's was still bloody - pressing fingers against his temples in an attempt to stop the incoming migraine. What the hell was going on anyway.

John sat on the roof for a good couple of hours but no other person ever arrived. He sighed, looking at his phone.

**Hey Sarah. Are you busy? xx JW**

**In classroom. Test'll start in a min. -SS**

**Good luck :) JW**

John sighed, shaking his head and stood up to leave, finding everything a waste of time.

**Can we meet up after? JW**

He felt like he needed someone to just be there, with him. Someone to assure him he wasn't dreaming. Not Lestrade. John felt like he needed Sarah. Like he needed Sherlock, despite him being like that before. He really was an idiot.

**Thx. Will write u ltr. Donno yet, will write u ltr. -SS**

**Ok. Gd luck xx JW**

He started walking down the stairs, heading back to his room with a sigh.

"That was quick." Greg commented as soon as John moved into the dorm. "I hav'a question. When you woke up, where exactly were you laying?"

"The floor. Just there." John nodded towards the space he had been lying. "Why?" He asked, sighing and going to make a cup of tea.

"You want to hear me rant? Really, I've just been thinking about wha' happ'ned." Lestrade yawned, sitting up to ran his eyes over the scene again. "Your meetee didn't come?"

"Yeah sure. Better than silence." He spoke as he poured the water. "Want one? And nah. A no show"

"'Cause you were there for hours and came back looking like a lost puppy." Lestrade grinned. "And whoever came and shot Sherly, they probably talked about you, since Sherlock, while pacing all across the room, kept far enough from you. Been careful to keep at least meter between you 'nd him." Greg explained, pointing at the scattered blood drops around the room.

"You doing that deduction thing?" John raised an eyebrow, looking at the floor. "Maybe they were wanting to plan to kill me? Or I dunno.." He sighed. "I think I'm going insane.."

"I just watched 'the Mentalist' yesterday.." Lestrade shrugged sheepishly. "Oh, and Sherlock didn't want to kill you. The gun was empty. No bullets." he pointed at the two guns lined up at a table. "And the second one was sabotaged. A little thingie inside was cracked. It wouldn't fire."

"Really..? If he wasn't trying to kill me.. What the hell was he doing then?!" John looked at the guns, sighing. "You're a mentalist.."

"Donno. I will ask him when I meet him." Lestrade sighed. "Maybe he needed to make it seem as if he wanted to kill you? Or it was just a joke? And experiment? Wanted to see how will you look? I don't read minds.." he shrugged.

"It's sick. I don't even care. I don't want anything to do with that freak. When I'm going tommorow, I'm not coming back to this dorm. Moving. I can't cope with that psycho. He threatened me! He made me think I was gonna die!"

Lestrade watched him seriously for a moment, before he sighed. "He texted me before." he almost whispered. "Want to hear what he wrote, or you can't cope with that either?"

John sighed in angry frustration, "Go on then.." He sat down on the bed, opting for a beer rather than tea.

"I guess I will pass." Lestrade commented at that, standing up. "Gotta leave, promised Molly to take her on a dinner. She needs to meet people."

"Greg. Please. Tell me what he said." He looked over at the man, taking a long drink of his beer.

"Fine." Lestrade sighed. "Wrote me not to talk to him or text him or whatever until he says otherwise. That was early to the morning. 'Bout four hours ago wrote me to come and walk into the dorm after twenty minutes, preferably armed." he shrugged. "Than sixteen minutes after that wrote that it's not necessary. 's all."

"He had planned it all then.. Right." John nodded, sighing. "Thanks. Y'know. For everything." He gave him a small smile before looking at the floor.

"Well that's what I said." Lestrade shrugged. "Though there is still the reason why did he plan it." he pointed out from the doorway. "I guess I will see you later, right? Or d'ya want me to stay?"

"Nah. It's alright. You go see Molly." He layed down on his bed, drinking the rest of his beer. John had half the mind to find Sherlock, but he had his training tommorow.

"Aaaalright." Lestrade muttered, though he still looked doubtful. "If you need anything - you've got my num'er, right? See ya, Johnny." he waved over his shoulder, closing the door after himself."Bye Greg." John called, lying his head properly down on the pillow as he stared at the cieling and mind raced over and over: Sherlock, Jim, Richard.

**[To: **** .uk**

**Subject: Training**

**Mr. Watson,**

**we are sorry to inform you that due to unexpected occurrence, your training will be postponed of the period of one week. It will be prolonged two weeks into the summer holidays to reach the necessary quota. We apologise for any problems this decision may cause you.**

**With a wish of a good day,**

**BA HQ]**

John sighed as he read the email, it looked like he wouldn't be going after all. He got up quickly, putting his wallet and his phone into his jacket pockets and headed out, locking the door behind him. He had two weeks to find Sherlock and confront him, he wouldn't waste anytime.

**Done~ D'u have time now? :) -SS**

He stopped in his tracks, standing right outside of campus. John sighed, looking at the phone. He couldn't push Sarah away.. What the hell was he even doing? Going to look for the prick who treated him like that? He did want answers, but they'd come to him in time and so would Sherlock.

**Yeah. I've got time. Training's been postponed for two weeks. JW**

**I've got 2tickts on some magician exhib. from bro. Wanna come? 's in the villge at 9p. -SS**

It was honestly some really weird coincidence, that the only flat in London Sherlock could get in about two minutes notices (due to a favour he had offered to the landlady Mrs. Hudson previously) was on Baker street, the number 221-B. The same as his dorm had been. How curious, how very curious.

**Sounds good :) x JW**

John sighed and headed back to the empty dorm, scuffing his trainers. His mind was fixated on Sherlock.

**I'll be free in 'bout 20 min,want me 2come visit? -SS**

**That'd actually be great thnx x JW**

He made his way into the bathroom, trying to tidy himself up a bit and took a shower to escape the smell of alcohol, blood and chloroform.

**Wouldn't wanna leav u in the deplorable compny of ur freaky dormie ;) C u soon. -SS**

**Thnx but he's gone. :) x JW**

He dried himself off, changed clothes and tidied around the rooms, making it atleast a bit acceptable.

**Good. 4how long? B ther in a sec. -SS**

Sarah quickly looked at herself in the mirror, in case there was something wrong with her make-up or hair since before her exam and walked briskly towards the dorm 221-B. She gently knocked onto the door, leaning against the wall.

**4ever hopefully. JW**

When hearing the knock break the silence of the room, he opened the door and put on his best smile. "Hey there Sarah. You alright?"

"Fine, fine. Bit tense." Sarah smiled back brightly, reaching to hug the male. "I don't know how I did in the test." she shrugged. "How are you?"

"I bet you did great." John smiled gently, putting his arms around her. "I'm alright. Been kinda a boring day" he pulled away and walked into the dorm. "Tea? Or something a bit stronger?"

"Tea or cola if you have, pleeease~" Sarah followed him inside, still smiling. "You look tired, boring day and not enough sleep?" she asked, leaning against the kitchen counter.

"Which type of tea? Lots of types." He smiled sadly, getting the two cups out. "Yeah, typical isn't it? Been studying and fretting about training. Turns out it's been postponed for two weeks as my batshit crazy roommate has dissapeared for good."

"Postponed? Really?" Sarah watched him in interest. "Oh - no idea, just pick one for me." she said when she remembered the question. "Why has it been postponed, though? That's not usual."

"They're having an inspection or something." John shrugged, pulling the purple box of tea out, boiling the kettle. "Jasmine ok?"

"Jasmine's fine." Sarah nodded. "Inspection? What kind of? I didn't know the training bases got unexpected inspections as well.. and large enough to postpone the training of new recruits.."

He made the teas, pushing one towards her. "There you go." John smiled, holding his own and appreciating the warmth. "I don't know. I'm not gonna question it.."

Sarah cupped the mug in her hands, gently blowing over the liquid to cool it down. "So you are staying longer then." She turned to face John, giving him a genuine smile.

"Yeah.." He looked over at Sarah, finding his lips form a smile at the sight of hers. "Yeah, it looks like I am. Which is good. I get to spend longer with you."

"That's right, John." Sarah leaned towards him, dropping her voice into a murmur, eyes flicking onto John's lips. "Think positively."

"That's a lot easier than you think with you here." He smiled, keeping his eyes on her. Everything about her made it so easy to forget everything bad, all the events of the day. She was the one thing, at the moment, normal in his life. Something good.

Sarah chuckled at that, pleased. "You are always giving compliments so freely." she pointed out with a wide smile. "Had a lot of practise?" she asked teasingly.

"No. I wouldn't say so. I prefer learning by doing. Trial and error." He smiled, giving her a wink as he sipped his tea.

"I see." Sarah grinned. She raised her own mug and took a tentative sip as well. The tea was bitter and soft, yet very heavy. "Can I have sugar, please?" she turned to smile at John.

"Sure. Though, you're sweet enough." He thought for a second and shook his head, chuckling. "I'm so sorry, that was terrible. Truly terrible. Cheesy." John smiled, turning around to get the sugar then handed it to her.

"I may be. The tea is a bit bitter though. And yes, it was cheesy." she agreed, adding two full spoons of sugar into the mug. She stopped to look back at John before she handed it back. "You sure it's not salt? Wouldn't be the first time I put it into my tea.."

"Hmm?" He looked into the small jar. "It's sugar. Salt's in the blue one." John reassured her with a smile. "I think I am cheesy though.."

"Yes you are. I don't mind, though." Sarah gave him a wink. "Well, your room mate is a sociophatic moron, I doubt he is beyond childish pranks, such as changing sugar with salt." she pointed out and took a sip of her tea. "But this is obviously not the case. Yes, it's sugar." Sarah grinned.

There came a knock on the door and not a second later in came a male in his late twenties, clad in well tailored suit. He was carrying a black umbrella and snobbish smirk. "Ah, Mr. Watson, how fortunate for you to be here."

John turned his head to face the smart looking stranger. "Sorry, do I know you?" He put his tea down, crossing his arms, giving a quick glance at Sarah.

"Oh I don't doubt you heard a lot about me from my brother." he commented with his nose turned upwards poshly, swinging the umbrella in his hands.

"Should I leave..?" Sarah turned sideways to John, her hair cascading over his shoulders to whisper.

"Broth-.. You must be Mycroft?" He stepped towards the man. "Why are you h-.. D'you know where he went? At all?" John quickly gave her an apolgetic smile. "It's fine..stay. Please?"

"All right..." Sarah hesitated, before moving to put the kettle back on, deciding that she can as well act nice towards the man.

Mycroft inclined his head in an agreement, swinging the umbrella again and again, his face remaining expressionless. "I believe the situation changed a bit since the last time we met." he commented, looking around in faked interest. "Nice room, Mr. Watson. Yes, I know where he is, he - thankfully - contacted me as soon as he changed his location. First sensible thing he had done since starting to attend this school few months ago."

"Where is he?" He asked immediately, "Is he ok? If he's ok, I need to go see him. To kick his arse until he's no longer ok." John frowned. "Sorry. I uhh.." He rubbed his forehead, trying to find the right words. "Is he in London?"

Mycroft gave him a long look, completely ignoring Sarah who was pouring the boiling water into a cup. "I have not come here to give you any information about my brother's whereabouts, more so when you are threatening a bodily harm to his person. I am merely curious as to what changed his opinion to.. well, you."

"What d'you mean by that?" John retorted, trying to control his anger. He could see why Lestrade punched him now.

"I am simply stating that the reason my brother decided to stay at the university, wasn't as much his studied, as his.. acquittances." Mycroft retorted in the same calm drawl he always used and took the cup of tea Sarah offered him.

She moved to stand next to John, feeling quite self-conscious under the Holmes' eyes. She despised Sherlock, surely his brother couldn't see that, could he.

"He stayed here because he liked the people? You mean he liked Jim and Lestrade." John nodded in agreement. "He was close to both of them, yeah. What's your point?"

Mycroft's face moved into an expression of disgust at the first name. "I am not sure why you think my brother would feel any positive emotion towards Moriarty. I would kindly ask you to explain." he urged John. "I would like to talk to Mr. Lestrade as well, though the relationship between you and my brother is much more interesting than the one between him and Gregory." the Holmes commented calmly, sipping the tea.

Sarah blinked at that, though she remained quiet, and looked sideways at John, watching his face.

"He told me himself..that..he and Jim were meant to be together and that they were on the same side but that I got in the way. So he..tried to do something about it. " John tried to explain as delicately as he could. "He and Greg.. Close too."

"My brother and Mr. Lestrade had a history together, no doubt triggered by his sudden act of violence towards me." Mycroft commented tastily. "Though I must assure you that Sherlock and Moriarty are in no way friends or comrades." he grimaced at the though. "I have no doubts my brother actually would join into the criminal world, if only to cause a heart attack to our mother as well, but Mr. Moriarty went to great difficulties to have him as an opponent to give it up by accepting Sherlock to his side."

"Mycroft, he told me so at gunpoint." He confessed plainly, "He told me everything. I was nothing but Moriarty's play-thing and Sherlock tolerated that until I got in the way of whatever the hell they had, apparently." John sighed, sipping his tea.

"My brother has different ways of solving his problems. He wanted to be a pirate." Mycroft returned, setting the empty cup onto the kitchen counter. "Was there anyone - sans my brother, of course - who tried to eliminate you, Mr. Watson?" the elder brother continued on with the questioning.

"He hired a bloody assasin, but the gun was faulty. The guy's dead now. Was shot." John shrugged. "Mycroft, please..can you just tell me where he is?"

"So the man who was supposed to kill you got killed. Who killed him?" Mycroft continued with his questioning calmly, as if John didn't say anything but simple answer to his question.

"I..don't know. He got shot." He kind of figured who it was though. "Actually, I think it might be the same guy who pushed Moriarty." He looked at the floor, still not used to that fact. "He's uhh..been texting me."

"I see." _So I have been right about there being a third party - someone who doesn't really care about the game between my brother and Moriarty_. "Thank you for the information you shared, Mr. Watson, I will take my leave."

John nodded, picking up his tea and taking a sip, sighing as Mycroft left. "I'm sorry about that.."

Sarah fleetingly frowned. "I thought you said this was a boring day..? Holmes almost shot you? Why didn't you call the police?"

"The police did come. The Holmes' have connections so it made little difference. Said he was working on behalf of his brother. National security and stuff. The gun wasn't loaded though. Just made loud noises." John gave a small smile.

"B-but.. why didn't you tell me? Are you all right? How are you feeling?" she watched John with her eyes wide with shock.

"I didn't want to worry you or drag you into this mess. I'm fine, really I am. Just a bit shocked. I'm fine though. How can things be bad when you're here hmm?" John attempted a smile which failed, pouring the rest of his tea down the sink.

"Oh.. I.. see.. I think I should leave.. You should talk to someone else, I don't know.. I know nothing about these.. things with your little 'friend', I shouldn't be here at all right now." Sarah muttered softly, putting her and Mycroft's cup into the sink. She grabbed her coat from the chair and gave John a small smile. "I will see you later.. just.. talk to someone."

"Sarah.. Please don't.." He sighed, "I..I don't want to talk about it. I.." John shook his head, "I don't have anyone to talk to about it." He admitted, "I don't have anyone and to be honest, I don't want to talk about it. I want to talk about you and your exam and normal everyday things.." John frowned. "You don't have to go."

"I will come by later, this really isn't the best time." Sarah leaned to peck John's lips. "Talk to Lestrade or Hooper, that would be better." she waved over her shoulder.

"Ok. Fine." John sighed, "See you later." He nodded, heading over to his bed and pulling out his laptop and texted Greg.

**D'you and Molly fancy hangin out later? JW**

**L8r, got a visit :O lol. -GL**

**A visit from who? Mycroft? JW**

John lay down on his bed, looking at the ceilling. After everything, he didn't know what to do. In his heart, he wanted to go to London, find Sherlock. What was stopping him? He would go. Sarah was unimportant. Answers were. He packed a small bag and locked the door, heading out of campus, mind set.

**Yeah, the big bro. With his majestic umbrella. He is an arse, but well informed. -GL**

**Cool. Don't punch him. JW**

John switched his phone off, shoving it in his pocket as he walked out of campus down the road, hitching a ride towards the main city and catching a bus more down south. He'd find Sherlock. Even if he really would shoot him when he got to him, he needed answers.


	25. Trips and Travels

**Title: Of Rats and Men**

**Chapter: Trips and Travels**

**Place: University; London**

**Characters: John Watson; Sherlock Holmes; Sarah Sawyer; Gregory Lestrade; Mrs. Hudson**

**Mood: Busy; Bored; Bitchy**

**Warnings: Cliffhanger**

* * *

**Yes mother. -GL**

After a night of sleeping rough in a bus shelter and a few hours of looking out of windows of cars and walking along roads and motorways, John arrived in central London. He switched his phone on.

**Change of scenery? -**

He sighed in frustration, not knowing where to start his look for Sherlock.

**Phone on now? Why did u switch it off? -GL**

**Was busy. Kinda busy now. JW**

John was shuffling around the concrete jungle, feeling a little lost but his eyes were all over the place, looking for Sherlock. He'd walk the whole city if he had to.

**You are so transparent it hurts. :D Try Baker St. Say hi to Sherly. Don't hurt him. -GL**

**How the hell did you know where I am? And thanks. JW**

He brought the map of London up on his phone, went on the underground and walked his way to Baker street. John walked his way along the street, thinking of where he could be. Then he saw the door. 221-B. could it be? Possibly? He knocked, taking a deep breath.

**Like I said, you are way too transparent. ;) Just please - don't tell him how u found it. Big Bro probably wasn't supposed to tell any1. -GL**

An elderly woman opened the door, gazing at John down from the stairs with curiosity. "Yes, dear? Anything I can help you with?"

John frowned at seeing the woman. "Umm..Hi, there. Is uh..Is there a Sherlock Holmes here?" He asked hopefully, putting his phone in his pocket.

"You aren't from police, are you?" she frowned back at him, moving the door to leave just a narrow space of an opening. Ready to shut it any second. "He didn't do anything, no drugs, no violence, no robbery – no whatever you think he did. He didn't."

"Umm..no. I'm not. We go to college together. I'm uhh..his frie- roommate." He changed quickly. Sherlock didn't have friends. If he did, John wouldn't be one of them.

"Oh, you are friends than!" she smiled, obviously pleased, and opened the door wide, ushering John inside. "I am the landlady, you can call me Mrs. Hudson." the woman started up the stairs, pausing in her rant only to knock on the door. "Sherlock, dear!" she called. "I know you are there, you have a visit!"

John stepped inside, "Nice to meet you." He commented as he followed her, looking at the door nervously but masked it with a small smile. He was here.

"Just go inside." Mrs. Hudson patted his shoulder when they waited a minute in silence, without an answer from behind the door. "Duck if he throws something, he has terrible mood swings. But his aim is even worse." she muttered consiprationally, amusement clear in her voice. "I will bring you tea."

"Thanks." John nodded and walked into the rather dingy looking apartment. He closed the door behind him, "Sherlock?"

Sherlock raised into a sitting position on the couch, blinking over the back of it at the incomer. "Oh. That's very interesting." he commented and looked at his left wrist onto his watch, then back up at John. "It must be very strong, it has been seventeen hours.." he commented, titling his head in curiosity, before he laid back down.

John walked over, wanting to grab the younger by the collar and beat the hell out of him but Sherlock was far too tired for that so instead he sat opposite Sherlock. He leaned back, sighing. "Why did you do that..?"

"Why did I do what?" Sherlock blinked at him, confused, absently pressing his palms into the back of his elbows. That was really weird, he shouldn't be seeing things anymore, as far as he knew his organism should have dealt with the synthetic intrusion ten hours ago. How curious.

"Put a gun to my head that didn't work properly. The whole, 'push me into a wall and threaten to kill me' thing. Then run away? What the hell was that about?" He asked, eyes locked on the other.

Sherlock waved it off. "That's so not important." he rolled his eyes. "Important is, that I need to remember the combination.. and amount.." he murmured a bit distractedly, reaching to grab a notebook and pen from the table.

"So not important? Sherlock what the hell?! I thought you were going to kill me. Everything you said, you were lying right..?" John raised his voice slightly, trying to control his temper.

"Of course it's not important - you aren't here, therefore me explaining would be just a waist of breath." Sherlock commented calmly, without moving his eyes up from scribbling onto the paper.

"Aren't here..? What d'you mean? I am here." John looked around quickly. "Why would you think I'm not?" He sighed slightly in frustration, looking at his shoes then at Sherlock's paper.

"Because a- you wouldn't be able to find me since I left no traces; b- if you by some miracle did find me, you would have punched me; and even if you didn't, the second you sat down, leaving only one meter between me and you, I would be dead." he explained in the same calm voice. "But I really don't remember, it might be because of the painkillers.." Sherlock muttered more to himself, adding another note to his unreadable script.

"I was half tempted to punch you to be honest, but I wanted to try and atleast be civil." He smiled slightly, not knowing why or even how but he felt the smile on his face just watching the other. "You're not hallucinating. I got off my arse and found you. No, I'd like an answer to my question."

"That's not possible, Watson. You have no way how to find me, since my brother is the only one to know about my whereabouts and I specifically informed him it would be unfortunate for anyone to find me." Sherlock rolled his eyes and set the paper back down. "And as I said, I was told to never come close to you again, unless I fancy getting another bullet into my system." he absently scratched the skin around his last bullet caused injury. "And I am not hallucinating, I am merely experiencing what you would call 'trip'."

"Tri-? You're on drugs? You got shot..? Someone told me where you were, not saying who because they'd go mental." John walked over, "You gotta have some faith in me. Are you ok? Where did you get shot? Who shot you? Moriarty?" He asked cautiously, obvious concern in his voice.

"Oh my.. yes I am on drugs, yes I got shot, blahblahblah." he looked away, getting quite bored of the conversation. "See? If you were here and not only a projection my stupid brain is amusing me with, I would be shot again and I wouldn't survive this time."

"That's why you ran away? You didn't wanna get shot. Are you scared?" John sat back down. "I could punch you if you want. To show you I'm real." He rested his head back with a sigh. "If this was just your brain entertaining yourseld then that's a pretty boring brain."

"My brain is fun, you aren't real and I am scared." Sherlock turned a bit sideways on the couch, so that he could watch John, with a soft smile curling his lips. "I don't really want to end like Jim.. and Ostranski, for the matter. Poor bastard. He wasn't even dangerous. The worst assassin I have ever met. But amusing.

"I thought you weren't scared of anything." John mused, looking around the room. "Ostranski was the guy who tried to kill me? With the faulty gun? What was to gain from all that? Asides giving me a hear attack."

"Fine, fine. Let's waste words." Sherlock rolled his eyes, settling his head comfortably against the back of the couch with his eyes closed. "Both me and Jim were trying to find the guy who pushed him. Jim because he hates to loose and he lost the disguise he had been working on for years. Me because Jim is mine to defeat and kill." he stopped for a moment. "There is a third party, did you know? Not interested in our games, no. Only interested in one person, do you know who?" Sherlock opened his eyes to grin at John.

"Both you and Jim are after this guy. But you're not working together and not having this whole melodramatic love affair. Ok ok." John nodded, taking it in before giving a confused look. "Third party? That's not Mycroft then I'm guessing." John thought about all the texts. "..Me?"

"Exactly." Sherlock gave him wide smile, irrationally happy that John got it right. "But Jim didn't know about the text messages, I did. As Miss Adler kindly informed me over dinner, if Jim knew it, he wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet trough your head. That was actually good enough plan how to contact them." he shrugged, dropping his eyes shut again.

"So.. He doesn't know. But you did. And you did all that, all that drama stuff... To get to talk to the weird guy? Did you get to talk to him?" All traces of anger was gone now, slightly amazed by Sherlock's idea. It was genius.

"Obviously." Sherlock snorted. "And stop talking, I am sleepy." he yawned and moved to curl on the couch, the top of his head almost touching John's thigh.

"I didn't travel all this way to watch you sleep." He hit Sherlock's head lightly. "What was this guy like?" He prompted, looking down at the man almost fondly.

"Of course you didn't travel all this way to watch me sleep." Sherlock agreed, moving his arms over is head to protect himself from any other assault. "You didn't travel in the first place, because you aren't here. I thought we went over that already."

" I am here, Sherlock." John sighed, pushing the other upright so he was sat up, it wasn't hard. "You might be tripping but I'm genuinely here. And I'm not leaving."

"You do feel a bit more solid then I would have expected. And it has been seventeen hours." Sherlock allowed hesitantly, still refusing to open his eyes. "Though there is still the problem with you being able to find me, and with me still being alive. Explain."

"I knew you'd have pissed off to London, so I followed. Someone told me Baker Street and I saw 221-B and gave it a shot. Don't have to be a genius to solve that." John shrugged, "The whole alive thing I don't know too much about."

Sherlock's eyes snapped open when he finally realized something. "Leave. Now." he barked at John, jumping onto his feet to point towards the door. "And I am going to punch both my brother and Lestrade. Just for the record."

"No. I'm not." John sat still, eyes carefully watching Sherlock. "I'm not going back there. If I stay here, that guy's gonna come here. I wanna talk to him face to face."

"No. Not here. As much as I enjoy watching you try to think, I don't want to die. -At least not until I take Jim down." Sherlock frowned. "And it's not a guy, it's an organisation. Or something. Leave." he repeated. "Now."

"...Fine." John sighed, standing up and heading to the door. "Be careful, yeah?" He nodded and walked out quickly. To be honest, John was more scared of being alone than some sort of organisation.

Sherlock sighed and moved to close the window and curtains - at least make it difficult for any sniper to get him. He would have to warn Mrs. Hudson not to let anyone in unless he talked to them beforehand. At least for few days. John really should know better.

John quickly turned back round, going in and running back over. "Sherlock. Stop being an idiot. You can't just hide here. Come back to the dorm. Please. Sh..Sherlock." He didn't know what came over him. "I won't let them hurt you like they hurt Rich."

Sherlock turned to look at him, eyes widened in shock - it almost seemed as if John wanted him to come back. He gave him a blissful smile. "I am not hiding, I need to get as much relevant people from London onto my side as possible in those five years I have." he explained. "And I already got my first warning, you can't stop them." Sherlock's voice dropped into a whisper. "They are more dangerous than me, Jim and Irene combined. No one can stop them."

"I can." John spoke, his voice almost a whisper as he looked at Sherlock with a weak smile. "I-I can help. I can help you. They're interested in me, right? I can help you with whatever. Just let me."

"You just don't get it - they pushed Jim to get rid of Richard, since he was a threat to you. I am a threat to your life. They will kill me to save you." Sherlock snapped fiercely, pressing palms over his eyes.

"You're not a threat to my life though! I don't understand that! A-and what I wanna know is why the bloody hell people want to kill to save my life when it's not in danger!"

"I am not a threat to your life? What were you doing while I had a gun to your head?! Sleeping?!" Sherlock glared at him, hands clenched into fists.

"A gun that didn't work and you had no intention of killing me! How does that make you a threat?" He tried to keep calm but his eyes were burning with anger.

"That's what you think." he frowned childishly, since he couldn't think of any argument to use in this case. And he was tired. And hangover. "And I am playing against Jim. That's what could get you killed only by sharing a dorm."

"That couldn't get me killed. I don't understand. Right just... Look. I'm gonna help you whether you like it or not because..you're my friend, Sherlock. Friends look out for each other." He looked at the floor, trying to speak his mind but found it impossible.

"Yes, that's why we are both standing here, waiting for your friends to finally get fed up with the situation and shoot me. How fun." Sherlock rolled his eyes again, finding it easier to be cynical than think about the fact that it was exactly what would happen, and moved to lay on the couch, sprawled over the whole length. "But I am going to wait in sleep, since I am tired and it will hurt less."

"They are NOT my friends, you are NOT waiting here or giving up!" John glared, getting angrier but in the end just shook his head and sat down in an armchair, refusing to leave. He couldn't.

"I am not giving up. I just know my abilities, as well as theirs. Like I said, not even me working with Jim would be enough to bring them down. You being here doesn't help - quite the opposite, actually. Didn't they text you? To get the hell away from here before I have the chance to destroy you?" Sherlock commented calmly with his eyes closed.

"No they didn't, which is why I'm here. All they've texted me is 'change of scenery?'. That's it. What d'you think of that..?" John sighed, "I can't go back there."

"Easy. They are following you. Ooh! What a surprise!" Sherlock exclaimed sarcastically.

"But why? Why me? I'm nothing interesting. I'm not Jim or you. Not interesting." He looked at the floor. "Nevermind. Just.. See you then." John headed fowards the door again.

"You are probably the most interesting person I have met in my whole life. Tell Lestrade that when he starts working for Scotland Yard, I will make his eight work-hours living hell." Sherlock called after him cheerfully.

That comment made John swell up with a certain emotion. He didn't know what it was, it kinda caught his chest and held it tight in a good way. "Will do." He replied, walking out and down the stairs onto the streets of London. Sherlock would be ok, he seemed set in place and in mind. He'd go on with his training, neither of them would get hurt and they would get what they wanted. Kinda.

"Dear, you are leaving already?" Mrs. Hudson poked her head out of her door, holding a tray with tea pot and two cups. She looked a bit disappointed after the male. "Come visit again!" she called good-naturelly.

"Sorry. Thanks for everything." He smiled at her before leaving the building and heading down the street. John made his way back to campus, though it'd take a while.

**See. You don't need him. -**

* * *

Sherlock waited till dark, unable to fall asleep after all, and then moved into the wilder, darker parts of London to work. He had only the rest of this semester, until Lestrade starts working for the Scotland Yard - it would probably take him about three hours to reach Sherlock after that, since he had been forced to visit the station twice already in only that one day. And if John told Lestrade about the drugs, the older male would never leave Sherlock alone for longer period of time.

* * *

A train ride later, John arrived back on campus, feeling exhausted as he collapsed onto his bed, finding the lonely room foreign to him still. He shut his itching eyes, allowing himself to drift off, not caring if it was the middle of the night or midday.

**Nice to have you home -**

* * *

It was almost noon and Lestrade still hasn't heard anything from John.

**Still alive? Wher R u? -GL**

He had taken Molly to lunch, finished his essay, been forced to listen to his mother nag about weather for two hours, but he didn't get any message from either Sherlock or John. That was quite deep in his dreamless sleep, John didn't notice the text messages. He felt calm for once but noticed a lot of background noise in his dream, didn't know what but guessed it was from memories of the day. He woke up in the evening, taking a deep sigh.

**In bed. JW**

**..Sorry, wot? -GL**

**I. Am. In. Bed. JW**

* * *

He rolled over, burying his head in the soft cushion, feeling cold. He felt jealous of past John. The John that had a Sherlock to keep him warm. God, he really was a saddo. What the hell was going on with him?

**Yes. Uni or London? -GL**

**Uni. At the dorm. JW**

**Oh thanks god. So u didn't find him? -GL**

**I did. He's gonna make your life hell at Scotland Yard. JW**

He relayed Sherlock's message, not wanting to talk to Greg.

**Ooh. I am so looking forward ;) From another side-Y did u leave so soon? -GL**

**There was no need to stay JW**

**So u argued, u punched him and left screaming? :D -GL**

**Nah. We talked for a bit and I said goodbye. Not coming back. You'll see him in 5yrs. I'll probably be KIA by then JW**

**I'll see him in 5months. Starting for SY then. R u ok? -GL**

**Fine. JW**

He got up to make himself some tea, sighing. He felt weird, like he had gotten closure yet there was a massive void.

**Don't sound like dat. Thought u would bring him back screaming and kicking. -GL**

**Tbh, I can't by asked. He can do what he wants. Y shud I care? JW**

**Coz u like him,he loves u - all around one big, happy mess. ^^ -GL**

John let out a sigh at that. Was that really how Sherlock felt? Not that ot mattered amymore. John wouldn't admit it, he did like Sherlock more than he'd admit but it wouldn't work. Besides..he had Sarah.

**Haha very funny JW**

**Oh of course he doesn't. Jk. -GL**

Then, after few seconds.

**Sarcasm. He does,and I still hate you. Wanna know what big Bro told me? -GL**

**Go on then. JW**

John stared at the cieling, mind going all over the place. None of it made sense. Lestrade said that but the way Sherlock acted said another story. Well there was the time he had that fever..and the time when he was drunk but that couldn't mean anything, right? Ok, John had a crush on Sherlock. Ok maybe slightly a little bit possibly more than that but...he was straight. He had Sarah. He didn't have Sherlock. Did he /want/ Sherlock..?

**Ther is supposed to B third side-against both Sherlock and Moriarty. And Big Bro said,dat judging by S's actions,the third side is connected to u. Rly? -GL**

**Yeah. That's what I know. The 3rd guy's been texting me and he's a proper creep. He says he's my gaurdian angel. Creepy shit. Watches me. Why?! JW**

**Don't ask me, lol. Just try to calm ur little fanclub down a bit,till they shoot else. -GL**

**I dunno how! Ugh. I don't want anymore deaths. Over me? Not worth it. JW**

**Better think bout way. And quick. If dey kill any1 who tries to kill u,wot will happen wen u join d army? -GL**

**They're not gonna kill the whole bloody Taliban! I dnt know. Shd I go to the police? I don't know what to do JW**

**Woud be funny though :D donno,ur problem-solve it. -GL**

**Thank you Mr Helpful Policeman. JW**

How the hell would he solve it? Dying would help. No John to save. He wouldn't be clever enough to fake it.

**Can we meet? Please? JW**

He texted the number of the stranger, hoping to get a reply.

**Told u I still hate u :)) might hav an idea,tho. U now wat Sh did to postpone Jim's game? -GL**

**Haha :/ What he do? JW**

**Not a jk. Big Bro told me; he said he threatened to kill himself had Jim not agreed. 'Eliminate the key player' he called it. -GL**

**I should threaten to kill myself to the guy? Meet with him? JW**

John thought the idea was sound enough. He wasn't afraid and Sherlock's gun was still here.

**Meet with me. JW**

**15 minutes. I will. Roof. -**

**He took a deep breathe, taking the gun and slipping it into his back can try. Gud luck. Write me l8er how it went. -GL**

**I will. Txt you l8r. -JW**

* * *

John put his jacket on and made his way to the roof, stopping still when he evntually go to the top of the stairs, seeing the suited man. He turned, a playful but warm smile on his lips as he saw John's image.  
"Mr Watson. Hi. Pleasure to meet you in the flesh." The man was almost giddy with excitement, parallel with John's frown and annoyance.

"Are you the guy who's been texting me?"

"Obviously. Come on, you're smarter than that! Don't you recognise me..? Well.. of course not. I won't expect you to." He grinned still, pacing slightly as his hands were behind his back. John's eyes raced over the younger man's image but no recognition came to light. Younger, possibly in his late teens, suited - well off? Some sort of Eastern background, accent obviously from London or some well off area down south. Now he felt like Sherlock.

"I'm sorry. I don't. I would like to, I don't."

"Ah well - that's ok. I do not mind. Are you ok? It really is good to meet you."  
John's hands bawled into fists, "Ok, just stop talking. I've got questions and you're gonna answer."

The man nodded his reply, listening with interest.

"1) Who the hell are you?" John raised his voice, trying to keep calm.

"I cannot give my identity to you. I could give you a fake name if that would please you. Dave? Alan?" He grinned, "Ryou?"

John gave a sigh, "2) Why are you interested in me? Why kill that guy? Get rid of Richard? Sherlock?"  
"You really don't remember..? Well that's ok. I won't bother telling you if y-"

"TELL ME. TELL ME NOW. I'm fed up with the texting and the crypticness and all that crap! If you're so interested in me I have a right to know why!"

"A right? No you don't. Why don't you just be quiet for a while?"

"Yes I do. Fine just.. Leave me alone ok? Leave. Me alone. Stop killing, stop texting and go shoo. Leave."

That prevoked a laugh in the man. "I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing this because I have to. I have to."

"Have to?" John pressed, hand going to the gun in his backpocket.

"Yes. I wouldn't expect you to understand Mr Watson.."

"Why? Because I'm stupid?" John pulled the gun out, putting it to his own head.

"Obviously, very. Put the gun away." He said tiredly and dryly, rolling his eyes.

"No. If you don't go away, I will shoot. Then you won't have me and you can go away and th-" John stopped talking, being shut up by the other man's laughter."You think I like to constantly babysit you? I do it because I have to. Shoot yourself and I'll jump. No point in my life otherwise." He said simply.

"Wh..what? I.." John didn't know what to do, just feeling stupid. "Why...? Just tell me why. Please.

"Minehead. 7 years ago. Boy was raped and pushed off the pier to drown. Remember?"  
John's whole face dropped. He remembered that clearly. He had walked past when the young boy had been pushed off and his first instinct was to dive in after him and he did. John had pulled the boy to shore and he had survived. "You..?"

"Yeah. You saved me. I was told that you had been my 'gaurdian angel' that day. Took me a while to find you, but I did. Now I am simply returning the favour. I have to."

The older shook his head, almost angrily, "That's very sweet but you don't have to. Stop this. Now."

A laugh came from the younger as he began to head to the stairs, "I have to go now. It was nice meeting you Mr Watson." He left, John just standing there with the gun to his head, unable to move.

**Hi :) feeling better now? -SS **

Only when John had prised himself from the roof and collapsed onto his bed he checked his texts.

**Good as always :) x jw**

He sighed, whole body shaking from something. Anger? Adrenaline?

**U sure? :) evrything solved, then? -SS**

**Done? How did it go? -GL **

**Yep! How are you? JW**

**Done. Can't get rid of him. Tried putting a gun to my head. Nope. Didn't work. Met him though. I've met him before kinda. JW **

**Good. Went shopping. :) What u up to? -SS**

**Rly? When? What happened? -GL **

**Just at the dorm. JW**

**Nothing really. Just talked for two minutes and he walked off. JW **

**So nothing changed and dey will still kill anyone who goes against u? How fun. -GL **

**Pretty much. I suck. I suck because I miss the git. More than I should JW **

**Sherlock? Well, don't go anywer close to him. I wan him still alive when I kick his ass for running away in five months. -GL **

**I won't. It.. I just feel weird. Sick but not sick. It's not right. Only happens when I think about him. JW **

**Want an advice? Get over it. Dat way u will both live long to C tomorrow. -GL **

**I'd rather live happy than live long. I'm happy with him. Greg, it hurts. It's weird. JW **

**Though I can't disagree,get him killed and I'll kill u twice. Just saying. -GL **

**I won't. I'm leaving him alone. Forever. It'll be alright. It's just a phase. I'll get over it. Got training soon enough. JW **

**Good. U will live. Wanna go grab a bier or something? -GL **

**Ja. Sure. I think I need one. Or a lot. Just need alcohol. JW **

**Meet me outside. We're going to get pissed. Cheers. -GL **

**Gladly. JW**

John dragged himself out of his bed, and onto the floor, rolling over to his coat and getting up. No one saw that. He couldn't be bothered to walk there. He locked the door behind him and walked out onto the courtyard, waiting for the other.

Greg half-jogged the distance before he could start feeling cold in only short-sleeved shirt, and gave John a hesitant grin. "Hoy." he greeted, hesitating for a moment before he reached and drew John into a one-arm hug.

He met the hug slightly, smiling. "Hey. First round on me?" John pulled away, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Second on me and we will play rock-paper-scissor-lizard-Spock for the rest?" he laughed merrily, starting the way towards the closest pub.

"Deal." John's smile increased at Greg's laugh, it being comforting to him. He walked into the pub, holding the door open for the other and walking over to the bar. "Larger?"

"The largest." Lestrade retorted, climbing onto the high stool in front of the bar. He patted the one next to him. "Let's stay here and save our legs, what says you?" he grinned.

"Yeah sure." John smiled, sitting on the stool. He ordered two pints took a large sip of his own, sighing with relief. "I need this so bad."

"Just don't moan to me when you feel like shit tomorrow." Greg commented with a smirk and took a sip himself. "I believe I warned you, you will fall for the Holmes' charm, though, didn't I?" he grinned widely.

"Fallen hard and fast. I'm not even gay." John grumbled, taking another sip. "I mean, what the hell? Seriously."

"You don't need to be gay to like a guy." Greg shrugged, swallowing a large gulp of his beverage. "Told him at least?"

"No...No I never told him. Regretting it now. But ah well. I'll get over him. Right..?" He took another large sip of his beer, voice hopeful towards the other.

"Who knows." Lestrade shrugged again, "I never did, did I." he grew serious suddenly. "Though I am thinking about asking Molly out.. you all right with that?" he raised his eyebrow at John.

"Hmm? Oh yeah, sure." John smiled, "Defo. Sounds cool. You and Molly would be good together. Why wouldn't I be alright with that?" He asked, finishing the rest of his pint.

"Well she dated Richard, I shagged Sherlock and we are all quite a closed group." Lestrade grinned sheepishly. "It could get a bit awkward.."

"It shouldn't get too awkward. Richard would want her to move on, you'd be good for her." John smiled slightly, "As for Sherlock..I uhh.. It shouldn't be a problem since I don't think he's coming back any time soon due to the whole fan-club guy."

"I meant between me and you." Lestrade gave him an apologetic look. "We both like the same guy, neither of us is going to get him and I am going to date your little sister." he explained. "Let's drink to that, though." Greg raised his bier and took a large swallow.

John raised his own, weakly after getting a new one. He smiled slightly and took a sip, trying to look on the good side of things. "And uh..I have Sarah. Kinda."

"Yeaaa.. poor gal that one." Greg smirked. "I at least really honestly do love Molls, since I love you guys all and all that shit, but poor, poor Sarah. She won the golden lemon." he ordered another drink as well.

"Golden lemon..?" John inqiured, having never heard of that insult before but guessed it was a bad thing. "To be honest I don't think she's into me."

"Golden lemon is a lemon, which is golden." Greg explained, not bothering to hide his smirk at all. "I don't know about that, the thing I don't get is how could anyone be into her. Molls doesn't like her. At all." he added, as if it explained everything.

"I don't understand that.. At all! Sarah's funny, clever, sexy, nice and brilliant. Maybe she's jealous? Y'know what girls are like." John shrugged, taking a sip. "If I'm a lemon, you're a melon."

"No, I am a peach." Lestrade stuck out his tongue at the younger male. "You know that 'melon' means 'friend' in Sindarish?" he added with a grin. "And Molly - jealous? Which planet are you from, mate?"

John took a long drink. "Earth, mate. Y'know what girls are like. Sarah's great. I can't see why anyone wouldn't like her. And what the hell is Sindarish? That Star Wars stuff?"

"Lord of the Rings noob." Greg shoved him playfully, before he called at the bartender and ordered third round for both of them. "Molly. Jealous. Of what? It's Molly."

"You know I'm not into that nerdy shit." John laughed, "I read the hobbit once. Boring though. And with Molly, come on! She's a girl. Girl's get jealous easily of other girls. Like, come on. Sarah's fit. Like, really fit. I mean, Molly's pretty. But she isn't Sarah."

"Yes, she isn't. Thankfully. I like Molls enough." Greg commented mock-offended for their friends. "But listen now." he leaned over to the younger, playfully serious expression on his face. "Do you trust Sherlock when it comes to people?"

"Yeah." John replied immediatley, realising he might have replied too quickly, "I uhh..I mean yeah. Why?" He took another sip of his beer.

"Then how do you explain that he liked Molly enough to talk to her every time they met and ask about her every time they should have meet and didn't; yet he honestly and genuinely hated the little gal of yours?" Lestrade asked, lopsided smirk on his lips.

"Well..uh.." John tried to think, "Jealous? I have no idea what's wrong with her! She's great. Has she done something before? Not murderer was she? Theif? Criminal? What the hell's everyone's problem with her?" He went on, getting slightly annoyed.

"Yes, jealousy, this time, I will give it to you." Lestrade grinned. "I don't know her, you know that." he shrugged. "Molls does. And you know how it goes; your friend is my friend, your enemy.." he trailed off.

"Well whatever. I'll talk to Molly when I see her. Sarah's..she's nice." He sighed, taking a large sip. "Don't get Molly pregnant though or I'll hang you."

"No worries darling." Greg laughed it off. "Don't make Sarah pregnant, cause we won't go to your wedding." he smirked.

"I don't think that's ever going to happen. She doesn't seem as in to me as I am her. I hope not." He took another sip of his beer, a smaller one.

"Well you have it bad for another guy, you can't expect her to be over her head for you.." Greg pointed out with a shrug.

"I guess." John shrugged, "Can we uhh change the subject?" He said hopefully, drinking.

"Hm.. let me think.." Greg hummed thoughtfully for few seconds, before he looked back at John with a grin. "No. I am enjoying this far too much."

"Git." John said with a grin, shaking his head. "So what exactly happened with Sherly? How'd you get to sleeping with him?"

"Want all the nasty details, don't you?" Greg wiggled his eyebrows at John, finishing off his bier. He asked for another one, quite eager to get drunk.

"Sure." He teased, smiling. "Since I can't remember anything about my night in the slightest." John copied the other man, wiggling his eyebrows.

"You are a horrible man Watson, horrible man." Lestrade chuckled, before he leaned closer conspirationally. "Well, we both got tipsy, talked a bit, I took him home and since big Bro wasn't there I decided to stay. Wouldn't want him feeling lonely, would I."

John laughed, shaking his head, "No no. You are a saint Gregory. Truly." He teased, sipping his beer. "Was it ever serious between you two? I mean, I know he doesn't do relationships."

Greg grinned. "Sure I am. Though Big Bro didn't thinks so in the morning. Still worth it, though." his grin only widened, before he grew more serious. "I guess it might have been. As much as you can get serious with Sherlock. He called me when he was being overdose. And whenever else he was in a deep shit. So I could come to the rescue." he grinned a bit, though he was still serious. "And he listened to me when I told him to go and do something. At least till he met you." Greg grinned sheepishly.

"You two would be off better together. I don't understand why you're not. I mean.. I don't think I _want_ to be with Sherlock. I..ugh..I don't know. At all. Why does Sherlock like me? That's what I don't know. I just wish he wasn't so goddamn handsome."

Lestrade looked at John searchingly and shrugged. "Donno. I mean, can't help it, right? I didn't exactly go and decide to start liking him, did I.. Did you go and decided to start liking Sarah? Probably not.."

"I guess." John shrugged, finishing his beer. "Shhould I have told Sherly I liked him? What would you haff done if you were me?"

"Who knows. I did told him that I like him. Er.. kind of." Greg smiled sheepishly. "Though I didn't have a bloody psychopath trying to protect me by killing him."

"And how did that go?" John asked hopefully. "Why am I even getting hung up over this? I'm not going to see him again so it doesnt matter.."

"No, it really doesn't." Greg agreed. He called for the bartender, ordering another drink. "You want one?" he asked John. "Sherlock took it quite well. Said something like: 'oh. that's a mess'. Kept on watching me like a failed experiment later on, though." the older laughed.

"Yeah sure." John nodded, wanting to get drunk. "I dunno what's wrong with him. He just treats people like walking social experiments. Like life is one big experiment to him. I dunno."

**Hey Sarah, how're you? JW**

Lestrade nodded at the man behind the bar again to get John one as well. "I know. It's kind of funny, though." he grinned. "'Cause people are really similar, one to the others.. he can predict what will they do by just looking at them. It's.. really brilliant."

"Yeah, the whole deduction thing is great. Insanely brilliant. Just looking at someone and knowing their whole life story." John nodded, smiling.

"And how can you look at someone and ask them about their day, if you alredy know their whole life story, exactly what they did and why, and what they probably will do?" Greg grinned.

"No idea." John laughed, shaking his head. "But I guess that what makes Sherlock.. well Sherlock."

"Exactly." Lestrade chuckled, taking a huge swallow of the cold liquid.

**Bored. Wot bout urself? ;) -SS**

**Just havin a few beers with Greg. :) xx – JW**

"Uhuh." John nodded, sipping his beer, feeling the alcohol get to him.

"What were we talking about anyway?" Greg asked a bit sheepishly, finishing his glass off. "I think that was the last one for me tonight." he waved for the waitress, getting a cup of coffee.

**Oh. Sounds fun. -SS**

"Pssh. Baby." John teased smiling. "Dunno. Sherlock I think."

**Wanna join us? I miss youuu ;) JW**

"What else obviously." he rolled his eyes. "And I would rather stay sober than end up shagging someone and waking up with a hangover." Greg pointed out with a grin.

**Hm? Can I? Wud like to meet the guy. :) -SS**

**Course! :) xx JW**

"Sarah's coming. Think it'd be good for you to meet her." John commented happily.

"Ew." Greg made a face at that, before he hid his snort into the cup of coffee, almost spilling it onto himself. He grinned widely when the waitress gave him a disgusted look, quickly turning into blush when Greg winked at her. "So when's she coming? An why?" he looked back at John.

**Yay ;) wher 'r u anyway? -SS**

**The fox, not far off campus ;) xx JW**

"Just cuz I asked her to come." John smiled, shrugging. He laughed, watching him. "Careful."

"Careful of what, Johnny?" Greg grinned. "And why would you do that? I don't wanna meeeet heeer.." he whined, laying his head onto his palms like a child.

"Come on! I want you to meet her so you can see how great she is and see that Molly's just jealous! Come onnn! Do this for me." John patted his back.

Greg just grinned and rolled his eyes. "Fine, I'll meet the gal, though don't neuter me when I agree with Molls." the moment his cellphone buzzed in his pocket and Greg reached to read the message.

**Bored. Will u come visit me l8er? -SH**

John laughed, "Alright. Just, thanks for giving her a shot though mate, appriciate it." He smiled, taking another sip, "Who's the text from?"

"Sherlock. You are welcome, by the way." he watched the screen with a confused frown. "And he is either drunk, using some kind of a code, or finally learned how to write messages properly."

**Y don't u come visit me? Might amuse u for a while. -GL**

"Sherlock? Why? What does he want?" He asked, his attention on the mobile. John's eyes kept his eyes on the door, waiting for Sarah.

"The usual." Lestrade shrugged, tapping the cell against the counter as he waited for Sherlock to answer.

* * *

Sarah hesitantly stepped into the pub, frowning a bit. There was a lot of smoke inside. And drunk people. And she didn't even want to imagine how the toillettes looked. Thankfully she spotted John with his friend right away and started her way trough the crowd towards the bar.

**No. Not goin back ther. -SH**

"Hey!" John grinned as she walked over, "How are you?" He knew he wasn't drunk, just merry. Which suprised him due to amount of drink he had ingested.

Sarah walked closer to them, giving John's friend a look over. He looked drunk. As did John actually. Though the older looked like a member of some gang. However, she offered him her hand for a shake. "Hi, you must be Greg, I am John's girlfriend, Sarah."

"Lestrade." Greg shook her hand minutely, letting go almost immediatelly. She was quite pretty, he though as he looked her over, but more in the fragile way. Not unattractive, just.. Well, different from their group.

John smiled happily, glad they seemed to be getting on well. "Would you like a drink Sarah?" He was glad she was here. Just glad in general.

"Ah.. yes.. if they have a tea." she commented with a hint of doubt in her voice and hesitantly climbed onto the stool next to John. She hated the pub. It was just so.. dirty.

Lestrade watched the exchange for a moment before he turned back to his phone, knowing the younger would throw a tantrum if he didn't reply as soon as possible.

"Umm noo.. They have cola." John said hopefully, "Unless you want to come back to mine and I could make you some tea." He shrugged, smiling as he took another sip.

Lestrade raised an eyebrow at that. Wasn't that supposed to be a get-as-drunk-as-you-can night between him and John? He sighed, deciding that he didn't really want to argue.

"Really?" Sarah brightened a bit. The pub was horrible and John's friend wasn't talking at all, just staring at his cellphone. That was completely unsocial. "That would be great." she smiled.

**Drunk? No. Might be a bit high, tho :) It's fun. U with John? How's he? -SH**

John quickly downed the rest of his drink, paying for his rounds before smiling at Lestrade. "I'll see you tommorow, kay Greg? Say hii to Sherly for me." He got off his stool, "Night, mate." He started to head out with Sarah.

"Night." Lestrade sighed, not looking at either John or his girlfriend. He couldn't decide if he was more angry or sad about the turns of event. "He asked how you were, what am I supposed to write?" he called after John boredly, still not looking up from the screen.

Sarah followed after John, hooking her arm trough his with a smile. She couldn't wait to get away from that place.

"Alive!" John called after him before walking out, kissing Sarah's cheek as they walked through the cold night's air. "Glad you got to meet Lestrade. He's a good bloke."

Lestrade sighed at that and paid for himself as well. No reason to be there when John left.

**He said 'alive' and left with his annoying girlfriend. How're u doing? -GL**

* * *

"I don't know." Sarah frowned fleetingly, leaning her head onto John's shoulder. "He seems a bit.. harsh.. you know, like a member of yakuza or something.."

"Greggy? Nah, he's harmless. Bit rough on the edges but he's a loveable rouge kinda guy. Gentle guy." John shrugged gently.

Above the sniper watched carefully, eyes locked on John.

"Doesn't look so." Sarah repeated. "Do you go there often?" she asked, nodding towards the pub in distaste.

**Been better till u told me dat. I hate her. -SH**

"Sometimes, yeah." John smiled, "Normally with Greg or Ri-" he stopped himself, smiling.

The sniper set his rifle carefully, locking on target.


	26. Of Friends and Girlfriends

**Title: Of Rats and Men**

**Chapter: Of Friends and Girlfriends**

**Place: University; London**

**Characters: John Watson; Sarah Sawyer; Gregory Lestrade; Pet Assassin**

**Mood: Horrified; Furious; Caring**

**Warnings: Two Murders in One Chapter**

* * *

"It's quite horrible place." She frowned again, not noticing John almost saying the name of their friend. "There is quite a lovely teashop here, you know?"

**Well, not all ppl hafta be perfect. More importantly, did u say u r high? Rly? Tell me it was a jk, pleas. -GL**

"Oh ok." John smiled, "You wanna go there instead?" He stopped, "Anything you want. Wanna lead the way?"

The sniper pulled the trigger, the mark on her head, the shot silent.

"Migh-" her eyes widened in surprise, and she fell down onto the floor, completely silent. She was dead before her body hit the ground.

**Yup I am. Got bored. 's fun. U shuld try. :) -SH**

Everything went almost in slowmotion for John. He stumbled back slightly but inmediatley got on his knees to the girl's side, feeling sick to the stomach as he saw the bullet hole. No. No no no no. Richard all over again. "S-sarah?" He yelled, hoping, begging he was just drunk or high or something. "Sarah!? No..no no. Stop this." He looked around quickly, for anyone anything. "No."

**GREG PLZ HURRY IM OUTSIDE JW**

He typed shakily, not knowing what to do. A girl he had genuinley liked who had a whole life was just..gone. He moved the hair out of her face, trying to help her, but had no idea.

**What's up? In the dorm, mate. -GL**

Greg sent it, though he put his trousers back on and slowly started walking back out, still irrationally angry at John for leaving. And now he wanted him to go out. That was weird. John was acting weird.

**Idiotic moron. Take a shower, drink a bottle of clear water and then go to bed. Sleep. Now. Don't take anything else, unless you want me to punch u. -GL**

John held Sarah, feeling overwhelming guilt, trying not to cry but he couldn't stop it while looking at the lifeless girl. It was his fault she die. She didn't have to die. But she did. He just sat there with her in the cold and dark, waiting for Greg. For something.

As soon as Greg entered the courtyard, he noticed two silhouettes there and sped up into run. The only thing running trough his mind were profanities and he ignored the familiar buzz of his phone, signaling a new message. "What happened, John?" Lestrade asked gently, as he knelt down next to him, feeling for the girls pulse. Gone.

"I-I-I" John tried to form a sentence but he whole body was just in shock, tears falling. "We were j-just walking a-and then she just collapsed but she was dead a-and she got shot. Sarah got shot." He tried to control his breathing, freaking out as he looked at the dead girl's face. "Sh-she's dead."

"I can see that." Greg whispered. He quickly dialled the hospital, moving so that he could tighten his arms around John, hoping to give him at least some leverage for now. He would have to take care of him, that was a second person dying when John was present, he could snap any time. Lestrade sighed, just holding the younger close.

John let go of Sarah gently, burying his head into Greg's chest, his whole body shaking in shock. "N-no." John pulled away, petrified. "GET AWAY." He yelled at the other, pushing him away violently. "GET AWAY NOW!"

"What? John?" Greg blinked at him in shock, not having expected the push and so he ended up laying on his back on the cold ground. His attention was moved back to the phone when the hospital worked answered his call, and he made to explain the situation, never moving his eyes from the younger.

"GET AWAY NOW." John screamed again. He was shaking violently, his eyes manic. "GREG GO." They would shoot Lestrade. He couldn't lose Greg. He couldn't lose anyone else. He didn't want anyone else to die.

Greg rolled his eyes at that, finishing off his call. The ambulance will be there in ten minutes. "I am not going to die, John." Greg sighed, moving to sit cross-legged in front of the younger. "I don't think I am a threat to your life, you know."

"N-neither was Sarah!" John tried to yell but his voice broke away, feeling weak. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I should be calmer. Ohmygod..she's dead." He breathed sporadicly, trying to calm down.

"Probably wasn't.." Greg sighed, deep in thoughts. "No reason to think about that now, all right?" he patted John's shoulder gently, steering the younger male to stand up. "Can you go into your dorm? Sleep or get a tea or something, I will join you after I talk to the guys from hospital.. or police or whatever.."

"I sh-..I should be with h-" He started but decided it would be best to follow the other man's instructions. "Ok." John nodded, getting up shakily with Lestrade's help and started to head off to the dorm.

"Be carefull.." Greg warned as he watched John slowly leaving, mentally preparing h8imself for the long, lng talks with the hospital staff and police officers. He decided that if it was too much, he would call Mycroft to get him out of it. Thirty minutes to - then he needed to watch over John.

John nodded his reply to Greg, making his way slowly and shakily towards his empty dorm. Everything seemed dark, he stepped in and switched the light on, almost jumping out of his skin when he saw the same man sat quietly on Sherlock's bed. The one he met on the roof. In anger, John charged at him, grabbing the man's suit and shoving him into the wall. "Sh-she wasn't a threat! Why did you kill her? I'll kill you." He hissed, face upclose to the stranger, who simply rolled his eyes.

"Stop embaressing yourself and calm down" he smiled as the needle went into John's arm.

John recoiled, seeing the needle and falling back woozily, back resting against the wall.

"Just sleep for a bit John. You need to sleep. We will talk later." The man kissed John's forehead and left as the future soldier went numb, unable to move, though the numbness was welcome as he fell asleep on the floor.

Thirty-two minutes and Greg called Mycroft. Thirty-seven and he was already jogging towards John's (and Sherlock's) dorm, hoping the younger was fine and just sleeping or listening to his music.

He didn't bother with knocking on the door - why anyway? - and just stepped inside, eyes flicking over the room for few seconds before his brain realized what it was he was seeing. Greg cursed and threw himself towards the unmoving frame of his friend, desperately feeling the pulse. John was alive. He sighed in relief so strong, that he couldn't even move for some time. John was just asleep. On the floor. He hefted him up and onto the bed, though it wasn't very easy, tried to shake him awake.

John woke groggily, his speech and actions still slightly slurred from the drug. "Hhuhh..? Greg.. Hi.." He murmmed slowly. "That guy. That guyy..he was here.."

"I though you wouldn't just decide to fall asleep on the floor." Greg acknowledged with a grimm humour in his voice, no matter how inappropriete it was. "Did he tell you why.. you know.. was Sawyer a threat?"

"He didn't say..just told me to sleep." John blinked, fighting to see straight. "He drugged me. I thhink he kissed me." John shrugged, resting his head on Greg's shoulder. "I'mm gonna puke.."

"Well, and you did." Greg chuckled a bit. "Good to see you can follow orders. You want me to make you tea?" he asked and stood up, no longer leaning over the other male, as he was obviously quite fine. As much as he could be fine in this situation.

"Yes please." He leant against the headboard with a groan, "Whenns Sherlock coming home?" John asled groggily, "Sherlock's late.."

"He isn't, idiot. Moved to London, you went to visit him, remember?" Greg rolled his eyes, but moved into the kitchen to make John tea. Strong tea. Very strong, black tea, with a lot of sugar.

"It's lonnnely.." He breathed, hanging upside down off the bed, haven fallen trying to get out. "Make himm come backk."

Greg snorted, having not expected that. "Sorry, Johnny-boy." he shook his head in humour, watching the kettle stand still, waiting for the water to boil.

"Fine.. I'll get himm." He fell out of bed, crawling to his jacket and getting his phone, lying there and calling Sherlock's number, vision blurred and groggy. "I'll make himm come back Greg!"

"I quite doubt it." Greg commented dryly, as he poked his head trough the doorway to see what was John doing. "Since you don't know his new phone number. Unless you wanted to call him out of the window. Feel free to try." he rolled his eyes and poured the boiling water into two large mugs.

John's drugged up mind glared at the kitchen and stood up, tripping over but going to the window, yelling at the top of his lungs, "SHERLOCK." Before hanging out of it with a sigh.

"Get back in bed you twat." Greg lightly kicked his thigh, before setting the two steaming mugs onto a table.

He fell back on the floor, dragging himself into bed. "'Mm kay." He sat on the bed dizzily. "Sorrry. I wanna kill that guy. I dint even get with Sarah.."

"It's getting a bit out of the hand.." Greg sighed and handed John his tea, making sure the younger held it before he let go. "First Richard.. then some murderer-guy, then almost Sherlock, now Sarah.. I really hope I am not the next.." he rolled his eyes.

"I don't want anyone else to die. If anyone's next it's me." John took a sip of his tea.

"I don't think so." The man smiled as he stepped in slyly. "You're not dying John."

"Yes he is." Greg commented, seeming completely non-pulsed by the sudden appearance of a person in the dorm. He was used to worse from Sherlock, after all. "In about seventy years or something, he will die." Lestrade raised his eyebrows at the unknown male, daring him to contradict.

The man laughed gently, "Yes. 70 years after a full and happy life. Not wh-" he was cut off after John lunged for him, strangling the stranger.

Lestrade actually blinked in shock at that, not having expected that. He probably should have, John wasn't very peaceful man, after all. "Eh.. John..?" he tried calling at him, his phlegmatic facade ruined and burned. "You sure that's a.. good idea?"

"Personally, I think it's a great idea!" John yelled, tightening his hands around the man. The man himself, pushed John off him, hitting a pressure point to make sure he went down. "Bit of a violent guy, isn't he?"

"But really.." Greg sighed, watching the row a bit detachedly. He knew John would be able to take care of himself. And Greg didn't really want to try and protect some man who almost killed Sherlock, against John. "What is the point of protecting John, if you kill everyone he loves?" he raised his eyebrows curiously.

"If killing who he loves keeps him safe then I can sleep at night." The man continued to smile. "She was wrong for him anyways. Too self obsessed." He commented, standing up properly, holding his hand out to the older. "Nice to meet you Gregory."

"Well, I would rather not have met you." Greg said conversationally, ignoring the offered hand with a smile. He flicked his eyes at John for a second, an idea appearing in his mind. "Though I have a question, if I may." his smile widened, but it was just as fake as before.

"Go ahead." The man smiled, looking at John then Lestrade again. "Fire away."

"You are trying to protect John because he saved your life, correct?" Greg leaned a bit towards the man in curiousity.

"That's the basics of it, yes." He nodded, putting his hands behind the back of his suited form. "Why?"

"Because you already saved his life three times." Greg grinned, and it was genuine this time. "At least." he added. "The debt is paid."

"Oh I'm not doing it over debts." He laughed as though the idea was childish, "Don't be foolish. I'm doing it out of love. And because I have to. I'm keeping an eye on both the Watson children. Well, he's hardly a child."

"I see. So basically you are just jealous. Because you love him. So you are pushing away everyone he loves." Greg laughed tauntingly.

"No. No I'm not. I'm killing anyone I see as a threat to him. James Moriarty and Sherlock Holmes seem to have gotten that message. You don't see them near John, do you? They can't hurt him. I won't let anyone hurt him and if you continue to goad me I will end YOU." He glared, trying to stay calm. "I will kill you, Miss Hooper and everyone you know and love if you continue to taunt me. I'm not the guy you wanna cross."

"I am quite confident my death won't end up very good for you." Greg smirked. "Not that I want you to kill me, though. But if I died, you would have the Holmes brothers against you. One last question, though. Or two. How was Sarah a threat? And why do you think John would want to live without the people he loves?"

He scoffed at the mention of the Holmes brothers, "Sarah Saywer was a direct threat. Too unpredictable for me to keep an eye on. I don't like loose cannons. He'll live without the people he loves. He doesn't need them and they don't need him. Sentiment. He's always got me though."

"Oh. Not jealous, of course." Greg rolled his eyes and laid down onto his back in Sherlock's bed. "Have you ever tried asking John what he wanted? Because this way,_ you_ are the only threat in his life."

"And how am _I_ a threat?" The man laughed, "John doesn't know what he wants. He's just a child." He spoke with a faint smile, looking at the forementioned man.

Greg smiled faintly, but didn't answer, looking quite busy when he cleaned his nails with his pocket knife.

He laughed in disbelief at the man's apparent ignorance.

John sat up groggily, "That dick still here?"

The stranger laughed again, "I think that's mean.."

"I think you should leave and nevet come back. Stop killing people."

He laughed again, "Not going to happen."

Greg sighed, deciding that if he were to end up in hell, he would go with all the fanfares. Too bad he would never have the chance to see Sherlock again. Or kiss him. Or - he forced himself to stop the trail of thoughts right there and reached beneath Sherlock's pillow.

"He isn't here John, no. The dick is already away." he murmured softly and pulled the trigger, first shot straight into the man's stomach and the second one right into the middle of his forehead, in case he had a bullet-proof vest on.

John's eyes widened, recoiling at the sound of the gun. "Hwhat? Oh.." He realised what happened when the body fell to the ground. "Greg..you just killed..a guy.."

Greg sighed and hid the gun back beneath the pillow, laying back down. "I know." he sighed again and fished up his phone.

**Mycroft, I just killed a guy. He is the one who shot Sherlock. Can you get me outta that? -GL**

"Can Sherlock come home now?" He asked groggily still, trying to stand up. "They won't try and kill him noww."

"Right now, Johnny, I have a bit different problems.." Greg muttered, gazing at the screen of his cell as if he wanted to hypnotize it. He was lucky, as Mycroft's reply appeared quite soon.

**Of course. As I assume the place of this accident is my brother's former room, I strongly suggest you to leave it empty sans the corpse for some time. -MH**

"Though we might go and visit him, if you want.." he said, after reading the message. He stood up and threw John's jacket at the male.

"Right yeah, sorry. Dead guy. He wasn't a nice guy." John shrugged, getting up and putting his jacket on. "Thanks. For that."

"You are welcome.. I guess.." Greg muttered, leading the way out of the dorm. They had a train to catch.

**On the way to visit you :) u happy? -GL**

**Delighted. Stop texting me, I am trying to sleep. -SH**

He followed sleepily, yawning. The numbness that was over him was very very welcome. He didn't want to feel right now. "Sarah died."

"Yes, that she did." Greg agreed as they made their way towards the train station.

"Imagine if Molly was just shot infront of you. How would you feel huh..? So many fucking people have died today." John shakily sighed, "Let's just get to Sherlock."

"You didn't love Sawyer." Greg acknowledged calmly, even though he felt his whole body shake heavily. In shock, was the right term, he was in shock. He needed a hug. "Hurry up, that's our train." he quickened up into a light jog.

"I could have done." He replied, following Greg quickly, "Are you ok? You don't look ok.. Just sit down when we get on yeah? Have a drink. Doctor's orders."

"I am fine." Greg said quickly. "Just want to get into London as soon as possible. Are _you_ fine?" he shot at John the same question, boarding the train.

"I don't know." John followed him onboard, answering truthfully. "I..My body's kinda in shock. Just seeing two people get shot. One of them my girlfriend." He lowered his voice, nodding.

"You are in shock. Nothing a good tea and few minutes of shouting won't help with." Greg tried to smile at John, moving into an empty compartment, but it came out horribly wrong.

John nodded, moving inside with him, following like a little duckling oblivious to the rest of the passing world. "Thanks." He sat down next to the window, taking a small smile.

Greg raised his knees up, holding them against his chest. He had killed a guy. Lestrade watched the scenery pass behind the window, not seeing it at all. He had killed a living person. Because that person shot Sherlock. His Sherlock. And threatened John.

"What does it feel like..?" John asked Greg without looking at him. "To do that? To pull the trigger on someone..?"

"Don't ask me.." he muttered, voice breaking in the end. He tightened his hold on his knees, hoping to calm the tremors that ran through his body.

"Well who else am I gonna a-..sorry. Being insensitive." John apologised, moving his eyes to the window, avoiding to look at the shakey man.

Greg nodded and concentrated on calming his breaths. In. Out. In. Out. Why was it that he had pervy thoughts even when he was having a panic attack? Deep breaths, you moron. In. Out. He sighed and clawed his knees.

Anderson was on his way back to his compartment where Sally was sat when he saw the two familiar men. Curiousity and pure nosiness caused him to walk in with a slight smile. "Off on a little holiday? Or hunting down the freak?" He sneered, looking between the two. "You both ok? You look like you've seen a ghost. Oh! Did you hear about the apparent murder on campus? Some girl was found shot dead. Wish I could have been there, could have helped on forensics."

Greg gave him a bored glance, though the nerves subsided into a cold anger. That was easier to handle. "Well, 'big-nose', go away until there is a mysterious murder in a train as well." he gave him a look.

Anderson furrowed his brow in agitation, shrugging the insult off with a roll of the eyes. "Whatever. I'll leave you two alone. And my nose is perfectley sized thank you Gregory." He huffed, leaving the compartment.

"Yes, it's perfectly well sized for a baby rhinoceros." Greg agreed, before he turned to look out of the window again. They were almost there, that was good.

John laughed slightly, "Is there anyone who actually _likes_ that guy? Well, apart from his girlfriend and Sally who he's cheating on her with." He shrugged, relaxing into the seat.

"No." Greg answered simply, not really in the mood to talk about Anderson. Actually, he didn't want to talk about anything at all. He looked at the time on his cellphone - seven more minutes before the train was supposed to be in London. Then twenty minutes to get to the Baker Street, if what Mycroft said was true.

"That's what I thought." John muttered as he watched the wilderness go by as they passed the world, from behind a glass window.

Lestrade silently counted to six minutes, before the train started slowing down. Good. Finally. He stood up and pulled his jacket on again. He tried to remember how exactly had Mycroft described the way, hoping they won't end up somewhere completely different.

John stood up, walking out as he knew the way to Baker Street, having trecked there before. "Not far. 20 minutes by cab." John commented, leaving the train.

"All right.. lead the way, Gandalf." Greg sighed and followed after him, jumping down from the train onto the ground. "You want to get a cab or go by feet?"

"Cab's quicker and I'm still a bit shakey so yeah. Taxi." He headed off the platform and into a nearby parked cab. Sliding in, he simply muttered the address to the cabbie.

Greg closed the door behind himself, maybe a bit more forcefully than he intended, and slumped into the seat.

**Will be there soon. Make tea. Been stressful. -GL**


	27. Flatmates

**Title: Of Rats and Men**

**Chapter: Flatmates**

**Place: London - Baker Street**

**Characters: John Watson; Sherlock Holmes; Gregory Lestrade; Pet Assassin**

**Mood: Flattered; Frustrated; Fantastic**

**Warnings: Mad Password**

* * *

The rest of the journey was silent until the cab stopped later at the familiar street. He got out, waiting for Greg before going to the door and knocking.

Greg rolled his eyes as he watched John knock and pushed in front of him, opening the door as it was not locked. "Sherlock?" he called into the flat and kicked off his shoes.

Sherlock poked his head through the doorway, at first seeing only the older. Greg reached to drew him into a hug, laying his face on top of Sherlock's head for a moment, the tension leaving him as a charm. That was good, Sherlock was warm. And safe.

"What happened?" the youngest muttered, when he noticed Lestrade shaking against him. He held onto him, trying to stabilize him at least a bit.

Making his presence known, John cleared his throat. "Sarah got shot. Then Greg shot the guy who shot you." He commented, averting his eyes away from the both, trying to seem interested in the wall.

Sherlock started a bit when he heard John speak up, blinking at him from over Greg's shoulder. "Interesting. We are both death men, then, Lestrade." he patted the older's shoulder and stood back.

Lestrade hesitantly laughed at that, finding himself a bit more at an ease now. "Did you make the tea?"

"Living room." Sherlock pointed towards the said room, stepping aside to let them walk inside.

John walked in, following Lestrade hesitantly into the living room of 221-B.

**Hello Mr Watson -**

**Who is this? JW**

**My colleauge's replacement. Nice place. Baker street. I hope nothing bad happens. -**

Sherlock nodded towards a couch in the living room, sitting on his armchair himself. He poured the tea into the two cups he had brought and shuffled them in front of John and Lestrade.

John sat down on the couch, eye wandering around the room as he didn't get a proper look at it before, having been too worried about Sherlock. He decided it would be best to keep quiet and let the two love birds or whatever they were, talk. John's eyes went back down to his phone.

**STOP THIS. IM FED UP JW**

**And Mr Lestrade just killed my best friend. -**

**WELL YOUR FRIEND KILLED MINE SO WE'RE EVEN. JW**

**Miss Sawyer? -**

**No. RICHARD. JW**

Lestrade calmly sipped his tea, noticing that John was paying more attention to his phone than to them. So the explanation would be on him. Cheers.

"Can I have a shower?" he asked Sherlock - who had been almost unnaturally quiet through the whole ordeal - when he finished the story.

"Yes. Stop by in my bedroom, there should be some clothes in the drawer you can use." Sherlock pointed the right way. He watched Lestrade leave and sighed, thinking about what the older had said.

John put the phone away, annoyed, and looked up, realising Lestrade had left. He gave Sherlock a slight smile before sipping his now cold tea. "What do you make of it all..?" He asked quietly.

Sherlock tapped his fingers against his knee in thoughts. "Lestrade will have to stay in London. They will go and try to kill him just as much as they will try with me." he acknowledged, looking somewhere behind John's shoulder. "I would like him to stay here, at least until he joins the Yard."

John frowned with a slight nod, "Understandable" _Damn it. I guess I will be alone then._ "For your two's safety. Besides at least uhh you'll be happy living together and stuff." He attempted to smile, putting the teacup down.

"It will be an.. experience." Sherlock grimaced a bit at the thought. Lestrade was just so.. present. And loud. And cheery. And cuddly. Which wouldn't be so bad, if it was John being, but it wasn't. It was Lestrade. "You _could _stay here as well.." he said before he could stop himself.

"_Could_. But would that keep you and Lestrade safe? It would be a bit crowded don't you think? Besides, I'm hell to live with." He gave a slight smile at the offer. "Maybe you two are just best together. Y'know." John shrugged, "Thanks for the offer." He spoke, though he knew he didn't want to be alone.

"Nothing can keep me and him safe anymore, John.." Sherlock pointed out, his voice serious for once. "And I am used to living with you, you know." he added with a shrug. "Won't force you, though, if you want to leave. You still have few days before your training starts.."

"Fine. Might as well, I'm already here and..I've got no one to go back to." John admitted, resting back into the couch. "Might as well jump onto the Baker Street bandwagon. Been up to much here?"

"Not really." Sherlock shrugged at that question, looking away. He tapped his finger against his lips thoughtfully. "Have you ever met anyone from the.. organisation?" he asked John.

"I met the guy who shot you. The one Lestrade killed. He said he was some kid that I saved from drowning when I was younger." John shrugged. "Doesn't mean he'd go to this extent, right? There's others yeah. Got a text from another guy. He knows I'm here."

"Of course he does." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I told you the last time you were here that they are watching you, if I remember correctly." he sighed, running his fingers across his eyes. How did all got so difficult?

"Right, of course yeah." John nodded. "Any ideas on _how_ to get rid of them? I mean..we don't even know how big the organisation is."

"They are protecting _you_. You solve it." Sherlock shrugged. His eyes strayed towards the bathroom for a moment, as Lestrade was one of the two only people he cared about, and the second -John- was obviously not getting hurt. If they killed Lestrade, well, he would have no other choice than to get both Jim and Mycroft working with him to bring them down.

"Yeah, but you're the smart one. They should be protecting you or summin." John sighed, eyes wandering to the window. "Do you think Moriarty well help you? Since this is ruining your game."

"Our game is postponed to five years from now." Sherlock smiled, remembering the encounter. Jim was honestly refreshingly insane. "And Jim is trying to find the guy who pushed him, so.." he shrugged.

"5 years?" John looked confused, "Why 5 years?" He shook his head, dismissing it anyways. "Are you sure it's ok if I stay here? I mean, I _can_ go back to campus."

"Because if we continued on, either you or Lestrade would end up getting hurt in the process." Sherlock shrugged again. "I don't mind, I am out most of the time anyway.. And you will keep Lestrade entertained, which means he won't follow me and nag about drugs."

John nodded along before actually realizing what Sherlock said. "Sherlock, no. No drugs. They'll do you no good and just end up killing you."

"Oh my.. have you been taking lectures from that moron?" he asked, irritated, and looked up at the ceiling. "I mean, I don't really want to live that long anyway, the whole- fall in love, get married, have kids, raise kids, grow old, die -phenomenon doesn't work for me, you know."

"It's your life. I'm not your mum or anything. I'm not the one to tell you what to do - or not do. Be stupid, take them. Your own bloody fault if you die." John shrugged. "The phenomenon works for me. One day. Hopefully."

"Yes.." Sherlock muttered silently, the conversation topic moving exactly the way he didn't want it to. He looked towards the bathroom again, relieved to hear the shower stop. Lestrade will be back soon, hopefully. He didn't really want to hear about John's future, or his love life, for that matter.

John didn't want to get into the future, looking down at his phone. No new messages. He was slightly relieved yet at the same time rather anxious. He told himself to calm down. He was fine, Sherlock and Greg were fine.

Greg walked out of the bathroom in dark trousers and towel across his shoulders, shaking the water from his ear. He blinked at the two guys in the room, noticing just how tense the air was. When he left to get a shower, he half expected to come back to see them shagging. Not arguing. And really not just each of them staring at different piece of furniture, respectively as if it was the most interesting thing ever. Hopeless. Really.

"So what's up, boys?" he asked with his eyebrows still raised, moving to sit comfortable in the empty armchair, as the other one was occupied by Sherlock.

"Nothing. Enjoy your shower?" John asked casually, as casually as he could. He put his phone away, shoving it into his jacket pocket, taking his jacket off finaly if he was going to stay.

"Not really." Greg muttered lazily, throwing his legs over the arm of the chair. He flicked his eyes from Sherlock to John and back and sighed. "Well I _knew _Sherly was hopeless.. but I thought you would know better, Johnny." he grinned.

"Hopeless in what?" Sherlock asked instantly, frowning at the older.

"Relationships, Sherly, dear." Greg stuck out his tongue at him, knowing just how much that would irritate the younger.

"What the hell are you going on about? _Relationships_?" John rolled his eyes, seemingly annoyed but in honesty just worried he'd reveal anything.

Sherlock ignored John's outburst, instead rolled his eyes at Lestrade. "I don't care about relationships, Lestrade. It's only about-"

"Sex, I know." Greg interrupted him with a grin. "Though you are hopeless at that as well, unless you have a guy telling you exactly what to do."

"I didn't hear you complain." Sherlock didn't miss a beat to shoot back, glaring at the man with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Over _you _I wouldn't hear the World War 3 starting, Sherlock." Greg taunted with a smirk, chuckling delightedly when Sherlock turned away, beat red, muttering a silent 'shut up' only. One win for him, obviously. He turned back to John, the smirk still on place. "Wanted to add something, Johnny?" he grinned.

John felt that the entire conversation was just awkward. "Uhh no. I'm good thanks." He frowned, turning his attention to his phone again, not really wanting to hear about Lestrade and Sherlock's sex life.

"Back to the important stuff." Sherlock leaned forward in the armchair, glaring at Lestrade. He absently rubbed at his cheeks, trying to get rid of the ridiculous flush. "Lestrade, as much as I hate to say that, you are staying here." he informed the older in a business-like voice.

"Why?" Greg blinked at him, feeling quite confused.

"You're on their hitlist." John tried to answer, feeling much like a third wheel. "Is it always gonna be like this?"

"Be like what?" Greg blinked at him. "Wait, what hitlist? Because I killed that fucker? Well, he had it coming.." he crossed his arms threateningly.

"That fucker is from some sort of organisation and they're like that guy. They'll wanna kill you _and_ Sherlock." John sighed, looking at his hands.

"I figured." Greg shrugged, when he noticed Sherlock taking a breath in. Better speak up and not give him a chance to have stupid comment. As always. "I knew that will probably happen even before I pulled the trigger." he admitted.

John nodded, looking at the floor. "I'm glad you shot him. He was a dick.." He looked back between the two of them.

"One fucker less in this world." Greg grinned delightfully.

"I find it fascinating how you two are able to lead serious conversation, but use so many various profanities that the primary purpose is being minimalized." Sherlock commented in a lazy drawl, resting his head against the arm of his chair.

"Well _you_ would, wouldn't you hmm?" John replied, not looking at him as he spoke. "Sometimes it's neccessary."

"Obviously." Sherlock snorted with a roll of his eyes. He stood up, setting his cup onto the table. "I am going out, enjoy yourself." he muttered towards the two males, already putting on his outside clothes.

"Where? Why?" Greg straightened a bit, blinking at him in confusion.

"Out. Because I want to. Will be back before dark, mum." Sherlock rolled his eyes, waving over at the two. "Will you be able to survive here with the idiot, John?" he asked in good humour, ruffling John's short hair just to spite him.

"Alright." John nodded with a small smile. "Take care." He looked at Lestrade cautiously before looking back at his phone.

"Don't kill him." Sherlock leaned down to whisper into John's ear, pressing a kiss into his cheek just because he could. He jogged out of the flat, chuckling lightly.

John felt a visible blush spread over his cheeks, he fought hard to keep his expression unchanged, but a small smile creeped out. "I'll try." He subconciously replied in the same tone, watching him leave.

As Sherlock walked into the cold streets of London, he tried not to think about John too much, since he needed to concentrate on work.

"So you said they texted you again?" Greg asked, trying to break the awkward tension that was hanging in the air.

**Want to get dinner later? ;) tW**

"Yeah." John nodded. "Basically said this prick's the replacement for uhh whoever you shot. I apparently saved him or something when he was 7. If I knew this would happen I would have let the kid drown."

Greg nodded, accepting the new information. And wasn't it just great? Not only had he killed a man, but he will probably die soon as well. Very cheerful thoughts, very cheerful. Greg sighed and pressed his fists into his eyes, trying to fight the incoming headache.

**As much as I would love to see your charming self, miss Adler, I will have to pass tonight. I apologise. -SH**

**Apologies accepted. I'm sure you're far too busy to associate with me tonight. Pity. Tommorow? ;) tW**

"How..are you feeling, mate? About _everything_?" John asked, trying to break the silence.

"I am not even sure about that." Greg chuckled at himself, finding it quite pathetic that he couldn't even sort out the mess of his head.

**Might. I will text to inform you sometime around tomorrow noon about the time and coordinates. -SH**

**Looking forwards to it ;) tW**

"I think after a good night's sleep, you'll be ok." John tried to comfort him a little. "Wanna watch some crap telly? Take your mind off stuff?"

"You really think Sherlock has a tv signal here?" Greg raised his eyebrows at John. "Though we can steal his laptop.." he pointed towards the device sat on a chair in the corner of the room. "Is that a new one? I thought his had that little smiley face on top.." he trailed off with a shrug.

**Likewise. Have a good night sleep, miss Adler. -SH**

**You too Mr Holmes -tW**

John got up and pulled the laptop from it's place, handing it to Lestrade. "It looks new." He commented, not really phased.

**Can I meet with you? -**

Greg pulled the laptop open. A password. He sighed, trying the same one as Sherlock had on his cellphone, not really thinking it will be correct. It wasn't. "Do you have any guess for the password?" he asked John tiredly.

John sighed outwards, looking around. "Uhhmm...No, no I don't." He shrugged. "His name or something?"

"Doubt it.." Greg sighed again, and fished out his phone with a resigned frown.

**We want to watch a movie. Stealing your laptop to do so. Text me your password. -GL**

**Piss off. -SH**

**That wasn't a request, Sherlock. -GL**

**Fine you moron. 'fhqsdfzbsu fhzalndf'. Don't catch me any virus. -SH**

"That's the stupidest password I have ever seen in my whole life.." Greg muttered, as he carefully wrote the letters into the laptop. "What do we want to watch, John?"

"Wow. He's umm. _Thorough_." John relaxed into the seat next to Greg. "Whatever you want. Want tea?" He stood up to go into the kitchen.

"The password doesn't make sense one bit. It's just a serie of random letters. As far as I know. Tea - if you are sure you can find some safe cups.." Greg shrugged, opening the internet browser. "What about.. Big Bang Theory? Do you know that one?" he called into the kitchen.

"Isn't that the uhh American sitcom about geeks and stuff? Sheldon Cooper? Yeah sure. Sounds good." John went to the kitchen, scowering mugs in the cupboard. He went to the fridge, looking for milk but almost had a heart attack, recoiling. "Greg..Sherlock has _eyeballs_ in here!"

"Doesn't bloody surprise me.." Greg called back in amusement. "Though I would like a tea without one, if I might." he grinned, for the first time feeling a bit lighter from inside. "And yeah, that's the one." he smirked.

John laughed, "Sure. Sugar?" He took the milk out, semi-skimmed at least, before looking for tea-bags. "Alright, stick an episode on." John searched through the cupboards, surprised that it looked more like a labrotory than a kitchen. He found the tea bags and boiled the kettle.

**Can we meet please? Your friend can come too -**

"Rather without. I can't be sure it's really a sugar.." Greg pointed out. He found the first season and let the first episode load. "Have you ever seen one before?" he called after John.

"Bits a pieces. Richar-" John stopped himself. He decided to finish his sentence, voice losing it's umph. "Richard watched the show a lot.. Said Sherly was alot like Sheldon. Aspergers I guess." John shrugged, finishing with the tea and handing one to Greg as he sat down, forgetting about the sugar.

Lestrade blinked at that piece of information, before he flat out laughed. "Oh.." he managed to get out through his chuckles. "I said.. the same to Sherlock.. when I made him watch it with me.." he said, trying to explain as not to sound like a complete lunatic. "Didn't talk to me for days after that.."

John laughed, "It's true though. Both genuises with big brains, really tall but awful at talking to normal people. It's like this character was made with Sherlock in mind." He smiled, taking a sip of his tea.

**No. Go away JW**

**Please Mr Watson. It'll help you -**

"Don't tell him if you don't want to sleep on couch for the rest of your life." Greg commented with a roll of his eyes. He stood up and moved to sit on the couch, arranging laptop so that both him and John would be able to see the screen.

"I assumed I would be sleeping there anyways. 2 bedrooms right? One for you, one for Sherly. I'm ok kipping on the couch. I rough it usually at Harry's anyways." John turned his attention to thr laptop's screen.

"Nah. You get one of the bedrooms.. though I wouldn't recommend Sherlock's.. if there were eyeballs in the kitchen, I would be afraid something will start munching your thumbs off in the middle of your sleep." Greg shrugged, meaning it as a joke only partly.

"But you're older." John teased, "You need the bed for old man things. Though to be honest, I wouldn't be surprised if you and Sherlock shared s bed."

"Stop with that already." Greg rolled his eyes with a sigh. "There is nothing between me and him. Was, yes, there was once. Now, though, he is off running around playing thieves and cops with Jimmy, and I am dating Molly.. Which reminds me.. I would have to call her later.." he trailed off thoughtfully, looking out of the window. "And I don't think I want to sleep, so you take the bed." he added.

"Alright alright." John held his hands up defensively slightly. "I'll shut up about that." In reality, John knew he was just masking his own Sherlock insecurities with other matters. His eyes went to the screen, watching the show which wasn't really as good as he thought.

"I would greatly appreciate that, doctor." Greg exclaimed in his best Mycroft impression and reached to get his tea, catching the laptop from falling off his knees just so. He settled back down as not to move the screen too much, and sipped the warm liquid with a calm smile.

John laughed, thinking the impression was pretty decent. "I don't get the whole obsesssion with this show. It's so baaad."

"It's pretty fun when you need to stop thinking.." Greg shrugged, trying not to be offended in the name of the show. He quite liked it actually. "What do you watch, then, mr. smart?" he poked John playfully.

"Grey's Anatomy uhh..the usual soaps. The news. Scrubs. Oh! Criminal minds. That's a cool show." John listed off on his fingers, smiling. "And you?"

"Don't know one of these." Greg smirked. "You sure those aren't for kids?" he teased, closing the window where the first episode had been playing. "Uh.. Mentalist? Black Books? Dexter?" he tried, reading trough the list of tv shows on the website of his choice.

"I bet you'd like Criminal minds. It's about uhh profilers? The dudes who profile a murderer to help with the investigation. Y'know, get in their minds. Really cool. Dexter's good." John nodded, sipping his tea.

"I don't really want to watch anything I don't know." he shrugged. "Would require some thinking about the story." he set the Dexter on play, as he already knew that one.

"God forbid you'd actually have to think." John laughed, setting his eyes on the screen. "Dexter's ok."

**Please Mr Watson. Please can we meet? -**

"Not right now, thank you." Greg rolled his eyes, almost jumping from his skin when John's phone signalled a new message - again. "Can you _please _turn that bloody think off?" he grit trough his teeth in annoyance.

"Right, sorry." John checked the phone, sighing.

**No. JW**

**Please. I'm outside. -**

John looked at Greg, "Theres a dude from the organisation outside. Kinda desperate to talk. I'll be two seconds." He headed out and down the stairs.

"Right. Don't let him come inside." Greg rolled his eyes and sighed, for a moment just relaxing into the back of the couch with his eyes closed. It wasn't that difficult to imagine that everything was fine. But it wasn't. Far from it, actually. He stood up, setting the laptop onto the low table, and moved to take a look around the flat.

"I won't." John called as he descended the stairs, heading out the door and stopped when he saw a woman stood there instead of a man. Not much older than 20. "Uhh hi." John smiled, caught off gaurd. Even more so when she hugged him.

"Mr Watson..you're ok." She smiled, burying her head in his chest.

"I uh.. Don't understand." He pulled away, looking at the girl.  
Her hair was short, black. She was asian too, like the man before. Was it some eastern organisation?

"No time to explain, they might find you..come on." She took his hand, dragging him into a black car, John didn't resist. She was pretty.

Acid. Matches. A lot of burned pieces of fabric. Greg sighed, for a moment wondering if he dared to look into Sherlock's bedroom. He decided he did, when he looked towards the door and didn't see John coming back. He pushed the door open and almost screamed. "Fuck. Rats." he cursed when he identified the animals in cage, set down in the corner of the room. Well, no he didn't dare looking around Sherlock's bedroom. He hated rodents with passion. Those little teeth, ew.. Greg shivered in disgust and left the room, making sure to close the door behind himself.

**Greg, won't be back for a while. JW**

He smiled slightly at the cute girl next to him before looking out the window. "Where are we going?" He asked, looking back at her.

"Somewhere safe." She smiled, voice almost a whisper. "Somewhere safe away from Sherlock Holmes and Jim Moriarty."

"Why? Why are you doing this..?"

"You saved me. When I was 7. From drowning." She smilef brightly.

John stared at her, confusion ebbing in his features. But..the other guy. He was the guy I saved. What? "From the pier?"

"Yep." She replied simply.

**Oh come ooon. Don't leave me here alone with the rats. Have u gotten kidnapped or something? I hate u. -GL**


	28. Kidnapping

**Title: Of Rats and Men**

**Chapter: Kidnapping**

**Place: London - Baker Street; Warehouse**

**Characters: John Watson; Sherlock Holmes; Gregory Lestrade; James Moriarty; Sebastian Moran; Few other people**

**Mood: Flattered; Frustrated; Fantastic**

**Warnings: Jim/Sherlock**

* * *

All desire to explore left him after the encounter with Sherlock's choice of pets, so Greg settled onto the couch with a sigh. He had nothing to do, and didn't quite trust himself to go out and not get lost. The only places he could find in London were the hospital and Scotland Yard, and neither of those were very amusing.

**How long till u come back, Sherly? Johnny left me her all alone, it's scary. Y do u have rats of all the animals u can? -GL**

**Or something. JW**

John watched the lights and life of London pass by, sighing slightly. "What's your name?" He decided to ask.

"Kristina? Alice? Whatever you want.." She replied simply.

"Real name?"

"Whatever you want, baby." She giggled.

..baby? John sighed, shaking his head.

**Funny. -GL**

Greg sighed, running his hand over his eyes. He found a decent movie on the net and set it on play, even though everytime he stopped concentrating, he saw the moment when he pulled the trigger. Fuck.

**In a middle of work. Needed rats, I apologise. How are you doing? There should be chocolate if you want in the kitchen. -SH**

**Write properly! -SH**

The car eventually came to a stop at a theatre somewhere in the west end. Adelphi. He looked around, then to the girl who was already getting out. He followed suit, "Where are we-?" He followed her inside the building and into a room, with lots of men in suits, all with weapons aimed at him. "Wh-.." He stopped, holding his hands to his head.

The spot light of the stage came on and Jim Moriarty stepped onto the scene. "Johnny mate! Been a long time ey?" He mocked in Richards tone. John felt sick. "Sorry bout all the people and secrecy. But how else am I meant to draw the bastard who pushed me out? Ey? Nothing personal, buddy." He smiled, socking John in the face and had him taken away.

**Yes mother. How is work going? -GL**

He slowly grew a bit more relaxed, concentrating more on the movie and the messages than the events of the day. That was good. He might even fall asleep without being afraid of waking up screaming; that would be unbecoming, he is a _man_. But not in Sherlock's bedroom, no. Greg decided he would rather sleep on the roof in full blizzard, then spend a night in close proximity to the rodents.

**Slowly. Few weird things going on; not in the mood to go and investigate each and every, though. Still alive? My darlings haven't ate you yet? :) -SH**

**Shut up or I will eat /them/. -GL**

Jim picked up John's phone from the ground idly, not bothering to watch the struggling man being dragged out.

**Wnt be back til later – JW**

Jim put the phone in his pocket after texting Greg, following John into a small dingy room, the other being strapped down.

John's eyes went wide in alarm, What the hell was all this? Was it even neccesary?

"How're you doin there mate? That tight enough? Good good." A smile never claimed Jim's face. "I'll tell you what's gonna happen, yeah? I'm gonna hurt you. Well, not me personally but these bastards are going to hurt you. A lot. Miss Adler informed me it is you who is the reason for Richard's death. Sooo...here we are! Feel free to scream, shout, do whatever. Might attract the person I'm looking for."

**All right mate. To quote our favourite genius, though, 'write properly!'. What are u so busy with anyway? -GL**

Greg sighed heavily. Looks like he will be here all alone after all. How fun. Not. He briefly considered going out anyway, but quickly decided against it. He didn't want to either get lost, or get shot. And Sherlock's flat was probably safer than outside.

**You guys are really pissing me off, Sherlock, you know? I was looking forward a relaxing evening with you two, and now you are both running around doing only god knows what, and I am here with /rats/. -GL**

**Tough luck. :) Read a book. -SH**

**Got a date :) JW**

Jim thought the lie was convincing enough as he smiled at John.

"Please. Don't do this. We were friends. For years.."

Jim scoffed, "Friends? I put up with your stupid little quarrels for years. There was no friendship behind it. Now I'd advise you to stop talking and start screaming."

**You can't bloody mean that.. -GL**

Greg stared at the phone with anger rising. He minutely debated just throwing the device against a wall, but then he would have no mean of communication, which was unacceptable. So instead he counted to twenty and then took a deep breath in and out, and massaged the bridge of his nose. John was sometimes bloody unbelievable.

**I don't want a bloody freaking book, Sherlock, I want to go and beat someone to a pulp. -GL**

**With that said, I can't promise to hurry up back. I am sure you understand. Calm down. Do joga. Watch a movie. Shoot the wall; if you so wish. -SH**

**Nice girl. Fit girl. Gotta dash. JW**

**Want to play, Sherlock? JM**

He sent both texts as he left the room, snapping his fingers as the door closed. Muffled yells came from the room, sounds of pain, anger, fear.

**Might. What is on stake? -SH**

**The life of John Watson. JM**

**Interesting. Can I meet with you? -SH**

**Maybe. Or I could pop into Baker Street. JM**

**I would rather this take place with John Watson present, if that's not too much to ask for. -SH**

**Very well but he's not in much a condition to speak. Tommorow we'll meet. JM**

**My schedule is clear right now; why waiting? -SH**

**Mine isn't. I need John for tonight. ;) Good night Mr Holmes JM**

**There is quite high possibility someone will notice him missing and comes find you till then. I couldn't help but notice you didn't deem it necessary to turn your cellphone untraceable. -SH**

**Clever boy. I just need him for tonight. Just one night, then we play. I need him so I can draw out the 3rd player. JM**

**There is no 'player'. It's organisation, this tactics have been proven useless. We are meeting now. -SH**

**Quite commanding. Come if you want. I'm leaving the phone. We won't be here. Toodles x JM**

**How mature. Thank you for the invitation. Turn around. Say 'hi'. -SH**

Sherlock sighed and put the cellphone back into his pocket. He checked for the last time if he had everything he needed, and he probably did. Hopefully. He quickly put the two guards behind the doorway to sleep, laying them onto the floor as silently as he could. It was not that difficult to find the way to where Jim is after that; it was enough to just follow the trail of guards.

He finally found the door most likely, those one not really matching the rest of the décor. It looked soundproof. Very suspicious He pushed it open and stepped inside.

The room was quite small, no windows and a single hanging light. Tied to a chair, John sat half concious, battered and bruised; beaten to a pulp and almost unrecognisable. Jim, stood with the mobile in his hand and in a dark suit, spun round on his heel at the sound of the door opening. He rolled his eyes and gave an annoyed groan, his eyes looked like ones of a child who's candy had just been stolen. "You're no fun." He said monotoniously.

"Oh I do apologise." Sherlock smirked and crossed the room to lean over John's form. He gently touched his fingers to feel the pulse- strong, even. That was good. Looking over the male, he noticed that while there was a lot of blood, the injuries weren't serious. Jim was only starting. How fun - not. "If I knew you would be so disappointed, I would have put on my clown costume for you."

John stirred slightly at the sound of Sherlock's voice, eyes flickering open slightly and he saw the blurred, tall form of the man. A tiny yet pained smile claimed his lips.

"Ohh. Please. _Please_ don't do that. It's cringeful watching you try to make a joke." He spoke, annoyed. "I'm doing this for both of us Sherlock. I want to skin and hang the man who pushed me. Hang him from Nelson's column. This benefits all three of us is the long run so shut up. Either leave or be quiet and let Sebastion continue."

"Oh no, I just came in for a chat." Sherlock shrugged and waved it off. "But really, Jim.." his expression turned solemn, as he walked slowly towards the male. "How does it feel to be unable to trust your own people..?" he asked with his head titled sideways.

"I can't trust anyone. That's the sad truth about this world. Can't even trust myself. I can trust you though." A small smile came to Jim's lips. A sad one. His eyes looked tired, rings dark around the edges which was barely noticable with his makeup but obvious to a keen eye. "I can trust you to be predictable."

"Of course you can." Sherlock agreed. "But really.. It took what - five days? - for Irene to finally tell you what she got from me? Makes one want to question who is she loyal to.." he watched Jim curiously from the close proximity. He noticed a tall, built man standing few steps behind Jim, partly hidden in the shadow - Sebastian Moran, probably. After him stood three other people - guards - and two of them he recognized from his nightly visits. How fun. "And she told me about your little lover quarrel.. What was _that _about?"

"Irene Adler is loyal to herself. I don't care much for loyalty. Sentiment. Nahh." He shook his head, frowning slightly then masking it with his condescending smile. "Lovers quarrel? Whatever Miss Adler told you, I believe you are misinformed."

"And now.. You chose London as your playground, Jim, really?" Sherlock added, scratching his neck in an awkward gesture. "The people here are all so gray.. why do you think they can join your side of the chessboard and not mine? Like, really.." he shrugged. "And I have one more disappointment for you, as much as it pains me to admit.."

Jim refused to comment, not giving Sherlock any further information or wanting to give any reason away. He pulled a fake shocked, dissapointed look. "Really? Oh damn. What?"

Sherlock threw his head back and chuckled. When he calmed he gave Jim a serious look. "I was told to grow up, so I took it to myself to watch the adults to see how was I supposed to act.. You know what an adult did the last time I had a serious conversation with him?"

"What did they do?" Jim asked on queue, playing along to Sherlocks little questions with faked interest. Sherlock was so predictable that it was almost sad.

Sherlock reached into his pocket and tugged out the knife he had bought - more of a long and sharp claw than actually a knife - and without hesitation stabbed it into the bundle of nerves in Jim's shoulder. He brought it out a second later, the blade stained only with the smallest amount of blood, but he knew that whole Jim's arm would hurt like hell. And hang limp. "Something like that." he said carelessly. He flicked his eyes behind Jim to see that one of the three men had his gun already aimed at Moran. Good.

Sebastian went to move to attack Sherlock but pulled his own gun out and aimed it at the rouge gaurd's head, the other two aiming at Sherlock.

Jim let out a loud laugh, a hysterical one as he clutched his arm. "Now that is unexpected! Bravo. Truly. Resorting to stabbing me. Now this is interesting. What next? My neck? Gonna shoot me? Hmm? Hmm? Come on! I like this side of you." He grinned, eyes flickering to John before staring right at Sherlock.

"Oh no." Sherlock chuckled. "I don't want to kill you, why should I?" he shrugged. "I have no real interest in this petty fight." he looked at the four people behind John. He didn't feel specially threatened by the guns aimed at him, no. If he was right, and he was sure he was, than one of them was on his side still. That meant those four could kill each other for all he cared. "I just wanted to give you a small message Jim - adults are cruel. They don't hesitate. Now, I am taking what is mine. Do try to stop me, I beg you."

Jim stepped aside, a pleased smile on his face. "What is yours?" He laughed slightly, "Be my guest. I have what I need anyways. And besides, you're being frightfully dull today. Take your little pet. Make sure that thing's on a leash next time."

"Oh, sure." Sherlock decided to have a bit fun, he nodded to the two man, trusting them to get John for him, and tightened his fingers around Jim's wrist, tugging the man behind him as he exited the room.

Jim followed along, curious yet apprehensive to what Sherlock was planning to do.

John knew the world was there, it was going by in a blur as he felt himself being grabbed. He dizzily tried to break free, despite how much pain he was in.

Sherlock stopped for a moment as they stepped outside, waiting until he saw the two men half-carrying and half-drugging John. He turned to Jim for a moment. "Oh, if you don't mind I will take John with us as well." he announced calmly, waving towards the cab that he had paid to wait there for him. "And you morons be careful, if you don't want me to tie you to Anderson's bed as a gift." he barked towards the two man and lead the way to the cab.

Unphased by his comment, knowing beforehand what the taller man was up to, Jim's eyes went to the buildings closely. "I wouldn't get in that taxi, Sherlock. If you value your life." His voice was low, yet playful. "You have soft hands."

"Not much, obviously." Sherlock raised his eyebrows. "If I did, I wouldn't still search John up, would I. I can call another one, if you would like, it's not that I care that much." he shrugged and waited till the two men reached them, before catching John's arm and throwing it over his shoulder to take care of the older himself.

"Why on earth are you taking me with you?" Jim asked as he tried to struggle out of Sherlock's grasp, for a man with soft hands they were very strong.  
Sebastian followed up behind them, aiming his gun at Sherlock. He didn't say a word, just kept his eyes on Jim.

"Oh?" Sherlock turned to give him a questioning look. It was getting quite difficult to keep John from falling down and Jim from moving away at the same time. He pulled them both towards the cab, nodding at the driver to open the door for them. "You told me I could, didn't you." he shrugged. The cabbie took John's other arm and helped the injured man to sit on the backseat, so Sherlock climbed into the middle, tugging Jim onto the seat on the other side of him.

Jim narrowed his eyes angrily but did not struggle. "I am NOT your pet, Sherlock Holmes." He looked out the window at the worried Sebastian but shook his head and the man simply left.

John looked to the side, blurrily seeing Sherlock and rested his head on the other man's shoulder.

"I never said you are." Sherlock grinned, resting his arm around John. It was quite worrying that John had yet to say a word when usually he was quite chatty. Sherlock spared a look at him, noting the small signs of his distress. He was in shock. Well, nothing to do with that right here.

"You were the only one who ever said the word 'pet', not me." He teased the criminal slightly before he reached for his phone and sent a message to Lestrade, urging him to make tea and wait for them. The cab slowly pulled off, smoothly moving trough the dark streets of London.

Jim glared still at the man, he was easy to temper, easy to get carried away. He'd have to learn to control it over the next couple of years; he was still childish in some senses.

"I was talking about Watson when I was talking about your pet. You thought this would be funny? It's really, _really_ not. What's even the point in taking me along?"

"You told me to take what's mine, so I did." Sherlock shrugged and gave him an innocent look as he put the cellphone back into his pocket, ignoring that Lestrade had sent him a reply. He absently tightened his grip around John, really just wanting him to do something. "And he is not to me the same as Moran is to you." Sherlock pointed out. "He has no place in our game."

"I know. But I want to find the bastard who pushed me. I don't care if it's a whole organisation. The only way to lure them is to make sure Watson is in a lot of danger. I hadn't even gotten started. As soon as I had killed him, I never would have gotten John involved. It's a mere coincidence that I had been playing with him for years and you happen to be his roommate. Maybe fate." Jim rolled his eyes, reallt not wanting to be there.  
John's glazed over eyes simply stared out the front window.

"I tried that one." Sherlock nodded, absently clasping his hand over the place where the bullet had hit him. It still hurt to touch, but that was fine. "And that guy I met is now dead.. there is a better way to lure them out, one by one." he sighed. "As goes the saying, Karma is a bitch."

"You didn't hit him hard enough, obviously." Jim mused, referring to John. "And you let the other guy go? I'd have him tied up until he screamed for mercy, making sure he tells me every last detail then made sure he would not get the relief of death." He said in a bored tone, watching the window before looking back at Sherlock, studying his face upclose.

"He wasn't the one who pushed you." Sherlock said calmly. He flicked his eyes over Jim to look out at the scenery. They were almost there, that was good; he needed Lestrade to take care of John. "If he were I would have sent him to you, just to piss you off by catching him first."

That prevoked a smile from Jim. "Yeah. That really would have pissed me off. I'd be in your debt. I'm not having that." He spoke playfully, eyes flickering over Sherlock's face before looking at his own phone.

"Where are we going?" A small voice came from John.

"Into the flat." Sherlock spared him a glance, before he turned back towards Jim. "Oh no, you wouldn't be in my debt, no. I just wanted to show you that you are too stupid to keep up with me." he smirked.

"Ok.." John spoke once more before going quiet again but it was barely heard over Jim's voice.

"Well that will never happen! I am smarter than you. If you believe otherwise it's because I let you do so."

"Or maybe.. the whole time I am just letting you think you are in charge." Sherlock chuckled, finding the whole conversation quite amusing. The cab drew to a stop and Sherlock readjusted his arm over John's frame, reaching to tug him out of the car. "Come over, Jim, let's have tea."

"Might as well." He stepped out after him. "It'll be quite interesting to see where you live." He looked around, taking in every little detail he could.

"Oh you won't be disappointed." Sherlock rolled his eyes, "It's just as chaotic and falling apart as my own mind." He dragged John towards the door, pushing those open with his hip. Now, stairs. That would be much, much more difficult.

Jim smiled, following him inside, simply stood there watching as they reached the stairs.

John pulled away from Sherlock slightly, grabbing onto the wall by himself, trying to get up the stairs on his own. He didn't want to have to be weak and rely on his old dormmate.

"Jim?" Sherlock called at the criminal when he realized that it would be impossible for him to pull John up on his own. "Will you be a dear and call at the moron to come out, so that I don't need to shout?" he asked pleasantly, stopping to stand on the second stair, leaning against the wall to ease the weigh. His previously shot arm was starting to throb painfully; the male was heavier than he looked.

"Pleasure's mine." Jim nodded before yelling, "LESTRADE." In his loudest voice, making John fall back in shock; into Sherlock. Jim smiled, looking around.

"Thank you." Sherlock rolled his eyes as he steadied them both with difficulties. He waited until Lestrade's head appeared in the doorway. "Stop thinking." he barked at the older when he saw the shocked look on his face; oh yeah, he had forgotten to warn Lestrade that Jim will be visiting. "And come help me."

Lestrade nodded and moved down the stairs, though he was careful not to leave Rich-Jim Moriarty out of his sight. He threw John's other arm over his shoulder. "..John?" Greg called at him, as they made their way up the stairs.

John's eyes slowly went to Greg a few seconds after his name was spoken. There was no response from him though.

"Oh yeah. Forgot to mention he's a little bit drugged up. Sorry. Well, I _say_ sorry. Bassy's idea." Jim shrugged, watching them go upstairs.

"Sherlock.. what is Richard doing here..?" Greg turned his eyes towards the young male, finally standing up in front of the door. He kicked the door open and both pulled John trough the door, moving him to lay on the couch.

"That's not Richard, that's Jim." Sherlock smirked, looking behind himself to see if the said male was following. "And he is my sex slave." he added just to see Lestrade's eyes bug out.

Jim chuckled apon hearing what Sherlock said, giving Lestrade a playful wink before stepping into the room, taking in his surroundings. "Skull..?"

"Well," Sherlock shrugged, "They say that your room - or flat in this case - mirrors what you have in your head. And I do have a skull in my head." he grinned. "It's name is _Humbart Wessel_." he pointed at the skull.

Lestrade turned slightly green at Sherlock's words and the wink, before he decided not to pay attention to the two geniuses. He sat down onto the floor, back cushioned against the sofa, and looked over John.

"You should see my place.." He spoke simply as he looked around, smiling more and more. "I like it here. Very..you." He grinned.

John's eyes were barely open but he was listening. The room spun around and every fibre of his being ached. He just felt glad to be safe. With Sherlock.

"Why thank you." Sherlock grinned. "Want to see the bedroom?" he teased, waggling his eyebrows at the criminal. "I have _rats _in there." he chuckled, nodding his head towards the said room. "The tiniest bite from one of those.." Sherlock leaned over to Jim, dropping his voice low, "could kill a grown-up man. Are you tempted?"

Lestrade grit his teeth, torn between feeling sick and irritated. He stood up and left to the kitchen, pouring two cups of tea - one for John, if he would be able to drink, and one for himself. Sherlock could very well get his own himself.

"Oh don't tempt me." Jim smiled, staring deep into the other's eyes. "You don't have to encourage me to go in there, pin you down to that bed and have you screaming to a deity you'll be believing in after I'm done with you." He teased, simply loving Lestrade's discomfort.

"You sound as if you thought I wouldn't love every second of that." Sherlock smirked and walked backwards towards his bedroom, stopping only for a second right in front of the door. He needed to get Jim away from Lestrade's - and possibly John's as well - ears for a moment. "Come over, then." his smirk only widened.

Lestrade sat down the two mugs with a bit more force than necessary, spilling a bit of the tea onto the table. He sighed and did his best to ignore the conversation. "John..?" he leaned over the male. "Can you sit up for a moment? You need to drink something.."

Raising an eyebrow, Jim approached him regardless; his smile only increasing. "Going to show me the rats? Or something else..?"

John stirred, opening his eyes at Lestrade's voice but didn't sit up. He simply hid his face, letting out a small whimper. He felt pathetic but couldnt help it.

"And here I thought _you _wanted to show something to me." Sherlock smirked and opened the door, waiting for Jim to get inside.

"It's fine, don't worry." Greg whispered soothingly, quite glad he could concentrate on John instead of Sherlock with Moriarty. He moved his arms around the younger and pulled him upwards and against himself, reaching to get one of the cups. He pressed it against John's lips. "I need you to drink a bit, that all right?"

Jim stepped inside the bedroom, "That can be arranged." He smirked.

* * *

John nodded, taking a sip of the hot liquid. He swallowed, looking apologetic. "I'm sorry. I'm being a poof here.." He spoke, trying to sit up by himself.

"Not that you normally aren't." Greg teased a bit, hoping to light up the mood at least a bit. He didn't let go of the male, though, "And don't be a... well, _moron_, you have been drugged, you need help."

John smiled weakly, "Is that why it feels, it feels like I'm spinning?" John tried to see straight. "I think I've seen more action in this one week than I ever will in Afghan."

"Probably." Lestrade agreed. "Do you want to lay back down? Or drink a bit more?" he asked, running his fingers slightly over John's arms and head to feel the damage. It wasn't serious; well, he hadn't thought it would be, Sherlock wouldn't take it so kindly if it were. At least Lestrade hoped Sherlock wouldn't.

"I just want to lie down..sorry." John frowned, falling limp against Lestrade.

"It's fine. You should sleep it off." Lestrade smiled a bit and settled John back onto the sofa. "I would bring you a blanket.. well.. but the only one I know about is in Sherlock's room. And I am so not going in there."

John sighed slightly, feeling the sofa under his head. "Am I crazy for thinking Jim might..might be a nice guy underneath the madness?"

"Yes you are crazy;" Greg frowned darkly. "He is complete and utter arsehole. And a killer."

"I mean..what if..he _is_ Richard..and Moriarty is the made up guy? I mean..I knew him for years. No one can be that clever."

"Yeah, and he tortured you just to pass the time, right? Just a bit of 'male bonding time', right?" Lestrade rolled his eyes. "Stop thinking when you are on drugs, _please_."

"But he'd talk. And on on onn 'bout his dad. Maybe Jim just needs a hug..? He can't be evil. He's Richard." John felt his words slur as he got sleepier.

"I think that right now, he needs something a bit _more_ than a hug. Like a bullet trough his brain or something." Greg snorted without any actual amusement.

"Icecream and a hug.. " John muttered, "I bet it's about his dad. He was normal as a kid. A 16 year old can't make up all that stuff.."

* * *

Sherlock closed the door and motioned for Jim to sit down on the bed, all traces of joking disappearing from his face. "First of all.. " he muttered and approached the criminal, pressing his fingers into a spot just over the place where he stabbed the knife. That should do something about the pain and restart the blood circulation into Jim's arm. Not that Jim ever showed that he was hurting; but if Sherlock were in his place, he wouldn't either.

Jim closed his eyes slightly, the pain starting to feel bearable. He smiled, opening his eyes and looked up at him. His eyes went to the cage. "Those the rats?"

"Correct." Sherlock nodded, though he didn't look around at the rodents, his eyes trained on the criminal. "You can pet them if you so wish, but I would appreciate if you sat down for a moment." he nodded towards his bed.

"I can live without petting them. Some things I prefer to look at rather than touch." He spoke as he sat down on the bed.

"Do you, now." Sherlock smiled fleetingly and sat down onto the floor with his legs crossed and leaned against Jim's knees. He watched the criminal carefully, thinking about how to best phrase it. "Now.. I am aware that if you don't know about the matter I wish to speak with you about, you will possibly call me a liar. And if you already do know, you will laugh in my face."

"You could want to speak to me about a plethera of things, Mr Holmes. Can you be more specific for me, please? I am stupid after all." His last sentence was slower than the others, playing with every word.

Sherlock nodded, ignoring the last part of the sentence, "Going by what miss Adler told me, Sebastian Moran either was, or still is, trying to kill you." Sherlock announced calmly, watching the man with calculating eyes. "Go on, call me a liar or laugh."

"I know." Jim rolled his eyes, "Tell me something I don't know. He's been trying to kill me - yes. I can look after myself. Thanks for trying to warn me Sherlock." He said, looking bored, but his eyes said fear. He still hadn't perfected masking his own emotions but with alias', he was fine.

Sherlock sighed a bit; he noticed the emotion, but didn't let it show. "And here I was hoping for a bit of amusement." he smiled almost absently and stood up. "Come on, _pet_, there is a tea with our names on."

"Hmm.. No. I think we should let that go cold." Jim said, getting up on his knees and pulling Sherlock down to his level by his shirt, a smirk enticing his features. "Or are you too scared?" Jim stared deeply at him, challengingly.

"Scared?" Sherlock raised his eyebrows at him, eyes not moving away from Jim's. "Of what? That you would force me to _convert_? Not one bit." he titled his head sideways in amusement. "Though you might not feel up to anything... you know.. with you arm like this.." he poked his finger over the place where his knife disappeared into Jim's flash.

Jim laughed, ignoring the pain though there was immense amounts. "I'm always up for everything." He teased, bringing his lips close to Sherlock's ear but never touching. "How embarrassing would it be, now, for Lestrade if he heard you scream out my name?"

"Embarrassing? Not really." Sherlock shrugged, blowing a mouthful of air over Jim's lips with a grin. "I could even try, wait up.." the male moved onto the bed, laying on his side to face Jim, "_Jiim!_" he screamed as loud as he could, muffling his laughter into the back of his palm.

* * *

"He maybe _was_ nor-" Lestrade froze in mid-word when he caught Sherlock's voice - since he wasn't even trying to stay silent - and raised his eyebrows, staring at the closed door in shock.

John turned around slightly to face Sherlock's room. "What the hell..? Are they..?" He looked at Greg. "Sounds like he's getting more than a hug."

"Didn't you want to sleep?" Greg sighed, leaning his back against the side of the sofa tiredly. "And you mean you weren't expecting that? I thought you _were _listening to them talk.."

"I wasn't..I kinda thought they hated each other.. Nevermind." He mumbled, annoyed and turned over, going to sleep.

"You aren't the only one, if that helps." Greg muttered darkly. He reached to take the book that was laying on the table, turning it around, as he debated reading it to pass the time. "_Ping-fa_." he states dubiously. "Ever heard about that?"

"Is that another bloody lord of the rings thing?" John asked, rolling his eyes.

"Nope." Greg gave him a pitying look. "It's said to be _'the Art of War_'. Sounds optimistic. You gonna sleep?"

"Art of the war..? Right ok. Going to sleep..g'night.." He said dazedly.

"Nighty night." Greg muttered, opening the book on it's first page, soon getting consumed into it.

John soon quickly drifted off to sleep, feeling safe in Greg's company but his mind far from at ease.

* * *

Jim's hand shot to his mouth to stop his own laughter, looking at Sherlock in almost disbelief. More in disbelief of the fact he could be laughing with his enemy and that he didn't mind. "I meant embarrassing for him. I'm not embarrassed at all." He grinned.

"Didn't expect that, did you." Sherlock teased, smirking. Lestrade was never a problem; John was. Could he really take what Jim offered with John just a room away? But John didn't want him. John didn't share a future with him; _Jim_ did. An idea hit Sherlock and his eyes widened, as he succumbed into helpless giggles, holding his stomach.

"No I didn- what are you laughing at?" Jim asked softly, trying to stop himself from laughing again.

"Well.. think about it.." Sherlock pants out in between his laughter. "We; we think about each other constantly, go out of our ways to impress each other and have already a date set. We could as well be getting married." he screw his eyes shut, the laughter shaking trough his body.

"Til death do us part." He added darkly before bursting out laughing as well, watching Sherlock do the same.

"It's true enough." Sherlock shrugged, when he managed to calm his breathing. He smirked at the criminal. "I have a question, though." he murmured thoughtfully.

"Ask away. Just make sure it's not a proposal." Jim warned with a smile.

"Oh you wound me." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "No. The thing is.. it's more of a philosophical question.." he murmured softly. "We make a game of loving each other, hating each other, but it's a game. To occupy us. What would you have done, though, if I _really_ fell for you?" Sherlock raised his eyebrows, quite curious about the answer. It would change the rules completely, if he refused to go against Jim.

The younger hadn't been expecting this question to arise. He took a second to think, his mind racing through for an answer; he recited Sherlock's words over in his head and smiled as though god himself had given him the secret to life and that he was not planning to tell anyone anytime soon.

"Well," Jim started, "That _would_ ruin our game wouldn't it? Please don't do that. D'you know how boring and dull and _mushy_ that sounds? Ugh. Makes me want to puke." He sighed but smiled still, "You.. Falling. For _me_? Nah. Too dull." He stretched slightly, "But answering your question, if you _did_ fall for me... I don't know what I'd do. My mind springs to kill you but... That would be a waste." Jim answered truthfully, looking for the other's reaction.

"I thought so." Sherlock nodded. "Don't worry, though, I don't plan on doing that. Well, it _might_ have been a bit wiser than falling for John, since I at least know where I stand with you, but I don't really plan on becoming your puppet to play with." he rolled his eyes slightly, lips twitching into an easy grin.

"Falling. Falling for John would be very unwise. Very reckless. Yet you did." He scoffed. "You fell in love. Awwwh. Awwwh. That's so adorable. So..so _normal_. Love. It's boring and normal and you fell for it! What did you fall for? His big soppy eyes? His caring nature? His figure?" He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, though the smirk never left his face. "It does not matter, does it." he shrugged. "Have you noticed, though, that while we are most definitely not.. 'normal'.. we do quite a good job of acting like that when together?" Sherlock raised his eyebrows at Jim.

"Two negatives equal a positive, Sherlock." He replied with a small smile. "We laugh, joke. Act like normal people.. It's funny." Jim said without any humour. "You can't have loathing without passion."

"I guess. It doesn't matter which emotion it is, as long as there is passion." he sighed, turning onto his back so that he could stare up into the ceiling. "I need a smoke." he decided, though he remained unmoving. "Want one?"

"You think I'd take the risk of losing my life to some cancer sticks?" He raised his eyebrow before smirking and pulled out his own lighter, flickering the flame before putting it away again. "Though I wouldn't mind something stronger. Bassy's taken them all from me.." He mocked pouting before smiling again.

"I apologise." Sherlock rolled his eyes, looking anything but sorry, "but I don't share the stronger stuff. Though the offer for a cigarette still stands." he lazily reached over the edge of the bed, fishing a packet from a drawer. He crawled back up and next to Jim, putting one in between his lips.

Jim pulled his own packet out, "Thanks but I've got a favourite." He pulled one out, lighting it and taking a draw, smiling and knowing there was more than just tobacco in his cigarette. He breathed out the smoke happily. "We look like two teenagers."

"I don't know about you, but _I_ am nineteen. I _am_ a teenager." Sherlock grinned, taking a drag himself. He breathed the smoke out lazily, watching the ceiling as if it was the most interesting thing ever. "I believe, though, that you said something about pinning me to bed and making me scream..?" he raised his eyebrows in amusement, when he decided he could very well do as he pleased. No matter what would John think.

"18." Jim replied, stubbing his cigarette out. "I played older pretty well to go to school with John. Kinda easy. Since school is just full of idiots." He breathed out his last breath of smoke before casually just lying Sherlock down on the bed and straddling him, undoing Sherlock's shirt with his good arm.

"Why did you, anyway?" Sherlock asked him curiously, putting his own cigarette out as well. He watched the male with curiosity he didn't bother to hide, not moving to assist him in the slightest.

"Saw him on a pier once. Saw him save some kid's life, thought he was interesting. I was so bored. So incredibly bored." He shrugged, undoing Sherlock's shirt fully and easily taking it off with one arm. He proceeded to bring lips to Sherlock's pale chest but never touched it, waiting until he got to the crook of his neck and kissed gently, moving his hand to palm Sherlock's crotch. "Turns out.. a lot of fate happened on that pier that day."

"It seems like that, truly." Sherlock sighed softly at Jim's touch, though he remained calm and collected. "You are soft.." he pointed out, more of a statement of something curious, than a complaint. "I would expect you to be a bit different. In the way of cutting my skin open to watch me bleed." he smiled lopsidedly up at the male.

"Oh really? Well, maybe with Bassy..but y'know. We're normal after all, Sherlock." Jim teased, kissing down the older's neck as he undid Sherlock's trousers, pushing his hand through to his underwear, continuing the teasing motion. "Maybe I am soft..or maybe I'm just getting started."

"So you really _are_ in relationship with your right hand." Sherlock mused out loud, lightly arching into Jim's touch. "Though I was looking forward the screaming part, you know.." he sighed playfully.

"I wouldn't say _relationship_. That's boring." He smiled, kissing back to behind his ear, "Screaming? I'll have you begging for mercy, screaming for me soon enough." Jim whispered before biting down on Sherlock's shoulder. "Patience is a virtue."

"I think we already established that we are normal." Sherlock breathed out softly, dropping his voice. There was no need in talking loudly when Jim was pressed against him as close as possible. "And having a relationship with his right hand is what a normal teenager does, after all."

Jim laughed genuinely at that comment, "I suppose so, yes." He sneaked his hands into Sherlock's underwear, managing to grasp onto the other's length as gently as he did the kiss. He brought his lips around the front of his collar bone, seeming as curious as a virgin.

"You are doing it on purpose." Sherlock rolled his eyes, moving his hand down to tug onto Jim's short hair. "Since you know just how I hated your little shy persona before."

Jim looked at him with innocent eyes, a flustered yet recognisable voice. "A-am I really that transparent?" He giggled shyly before dropping the act with a grin, kissing Sherlock's neck as his grip around the other's member tightened, starting to move his hand roughly up and down it's length.

"Not really." Sherlock chuckled, though it sounded a bit breathless. "Believe me, though, that if I could kill that one without killing you, I would." he rolled his eyes in amusement. He bit down a groan, holding himself as not to thrust up into Jim's hand.

"Same here, to be honest." Jim nodded in agreement, smiling at Shelock's reactiom. He moved his hand harder, faster and kissed down the taller man's exposed chest.

"Though your reactions were quite delightful..." Sherlock moaned silently, just to see what would Jim do, "..when I had your cock down my throat." he grinned, tightening his fingers into Jim's hair.

Jim laughed slightly, "All of which were put on, of course." He smiled, taking his own shirt off with difficulty, having to remove his hand from Sherlock to do so since his other arm was still in pain. "I wonder what you reaction would be.." Jim spoke curiously, taking off Sherlock's underwear and quickly taking him into his mouth, going all the way down straight away.

Sherlock bucked his hips up into the heat before he could help it, though he managed to stay silent. Reaching his hands, he ran his fingers trough Jim's hair gently, drawing patterns into the skin. "So tell me, _Jim_.." he breathed out with a grin when he was sure his voice wouldn't shake, "Do you want me to put on some? Just to make it more fun?" he teased.

Quite pleased with Sherlock's automatic reaction, he slowly removed his lips from Sherlock's member, going all the way back up to be able to speak. Jim took it into his smaller hands as he smirked at the older, "Put on some..?" He asked in the mock innocent tone Sherlock hated so much.

Sherlock chuckled slightly, shaking his head at the younger. "You know, if you keep this disguise on, the only screaming you will get will be a bloody murder when I beat you to death." he pointed out and repeated the motion of pulling at Jim's hair.

"Oh that would be such a turn on." He grinned, dropping the act and teased with the words. Jim moved his hand faster. "Go on then. Go ahead.."

"Yes.. you would be so turned on.. that you would never stand up again." Sherlock rolled his eyes and moved his hand over Jim's, interlacing their fingers together with a smirk. He gave a tug, making the younger collapse onto him.

"Call me sick, but that kinda thing does sound good," he said not much above a whisper as there was little point in speaking loudly when they were so close. Jim laughed slightly when he was ontop of Sherlock, raising an eyebrow at the man.

Sherlock ran his fingers down Jim's arm almost absently, looking at him thoughtfully. "We are too similar to each other." he murmured just as silently. "I could tie you up and mark you, take you and make you shatter, knowing you would love every second of that, yet the only thing I would think is just how much I would want to switch places with you." he chuckled lightly, closing his eyes for a moment.

"Mm." He hummed in agreement, waiting for the small moment that Sherlock closed his eyes and grabbed him by his dark curls; turning him over and shoving his head against the wall harshly, making sure he was on his knees. Jim kept Sherlock up by his hair, still holding onto his dick but his movements softer due to his weak arm.

Sherlock laughed helplessly for few seconds, leaning against the wall. "You are _fun_." he said even though he was still chuckling silently.

"Well there's no point in being dull, is there?" He tugged roughly again on his curls, before taking his own underwear off, having to use his weak arm, "Why on earth would you want to be boring? Even if we are 'normal'" Jim scoffed.

"I don't think most of the people _want_ to be boring." Sherlock pointed out and arched his back a bit, so that his head was leaned back. "So it's always so very surprising.. when I see someone being _not _boring."

"Yeah." Jim replied quietly, tugging on Sherlock's curls again for fun, positioning himself and slamming himself into the older without holding anything back, just to see the other's reaction.

Sherlock shuddered and let out a muffled moan, biting down hard onto his lower lip. He felt his teeth penetrate the skin, tasting his own blood. "Careful.. or I might.. really fall for you.." he breathed carefully trough his nose, leaning his arms against the wall over his head.

"Now now..don't be stupid." He almost purred in Sherlock's ear, smiling as he let his free hand run down Sherlock's porceline back and dug his nails in; scratching his way down and admiring him almost with his cold eyes before pulling out of Sherlock completely then ramming himself in again hard.

Sherlock let out another breathy moan, not bothering to even his breathing. He was panting a bit, his whole body tense as he waited for Jim's next move. "Stupid? Not really.." he said, surprising himself that he was still quite coherent, "It would be almost like the Stockholm Syndrome."

"Oh _please_ don't do that. That would be terrible." He smirked, running his nails down Sherlock's back again as he pulled out and repeated his movement; thrusting hard into him again. "Absolutely terrible.." His voice was soft in Sherlock's ear, his lips going to the other's neck.

"_Exactly_." Sherlock nodded a bit, no longer sure if his body was trembling due to his suppressed laughter, or because of something completely different. "I would.. ask you not to.. leave a mark.." he rolled his eyes. "But I guess.. that would just.. make you do.. it more times around."

"You know me so well." He mused, starting to move in a regular pattern and tried himself not to moan or make any sign or noise of the sense of euphoria that was shooting through him. Jim didn't know why but it felt better than usual, maybe it was the idea of marking Sherlock, overpowering him even in the slightest. He was in control and he liked it. Jim moved harder and faster, yanking Sherlock's head back by his hair.

Sherlock leaned his head back at that, cushioning it onto Jim's shoulder as not to hurt his neck. He opened his eyes, watching the younger in fascination, their bodies rocking together with every move they shared. "Course I do.. it's like.. looking into.. a fucking mirror.." he breathed out, letting out a low moan, just to see how would Jim like that.

He grazed his teeth over the crook of Sherlock's neck, chuckling silently despite his breathing getting harder no matter how hard he tried to control it. It just felt..there was no other word to describe it than incredible. "Forever a narcissist, Sherlock.." Jim smirked, moving harder as he was encouraged by Sherlock's moan; wanting to hear him scream.

"Narcissist." Sherlock repeated in distaste, scoffing a bit. He was not - he _hated_ how pale his skin seemed to be, no matter how much time did he spend on sun. He despised that his hair fell all over the place, never seeming to be tidy. And his eyes - the ever changing colour was stupid and moronic. He decidedly not commented, though, when he noticed Jim's breathing a bit unsteady. Good. He moaned again, reaching just the tip of his tongue to lick at Jim's neck.

With that comment Jim realised that they were obviously more alike that he had thought. Called so many times over, he himself loathed nobody more than James Moriarty. His reptillian features, his shorter height, the way his small hands were always so cold. People said it was because he didn't have a soul, or a heart but he could feel it thumping away loudly against his chest. Now was not the time to be thinking about his insecurities. For a small moment he lost all trace of thought when Sherlock's tounge made contact with his neck, letting a small breathy moan go. Getting control of his mind again, he pulled Sherlock's head back, biting harshly on the other's neck, throwing it back against the wall as he moved slower but harder.

"Oh my.." Sherlock moaned out, catching himself just before his head could collide with the wall. He pressed the side of his face against it to cool himself a bit. He was still smirking slightly, though, letting out a soft mewl of pleasure every time Jim moved into him. It was quite fun, he realized, making a noise just because he _could_. "I might just.. put a.. poster of .. you over.. my mirror.." he chuckled breathlessly.

Jim wasn't used to not being in control, he didn't like it. He was in control of Sherlock, of their situation but not in control of himself. His body seemed to move by itself, thrusting harder and faster. "You'd like that hmm..?" He laughed slightly, almost as breathless, "You'd like..the view. You can't help..but like me." Jim teased, quickly pulling out to drag Sherlock away from the wall and onto his knees in the centre of the bed; shoving him down so he stayed down. He went into him again, going as slowly and gently as possible just to mess with him, using his good hand to stroke Sherlock's length.

"So?" Sherlock chuckled a bit, even though he let another moan at the change of position. He twisted his fingers into the covers beneath him, holding his head down pressed against the mattress. "It's not against the rules to like my opponent." he smirked a bit, even though his breaths were coming out shallow and hurried.

Jim started to move faster, not being able to control himself any longer and he cursed outwardly for doing so. Jim dug his nails into Sherlock's shoulders and he pulled him back to bite at his neck again and went harder than before; just wanting to hear Sherlock. Wanted to hear the noises Jim was causing him to do. "Fair..enough. It's strange..being _liked_."

"Still.. want me.. to scream..?" Sherlock groaned into the mattress, not even bothering to move back against the other, he just held in place, body rocking back and forth with the force of Jim's thrusts.

"Not if it's just..because you know I want you to." He grinned, closing his eyes slightly as he moved, not even looking at Sherlock anymore; just encouraged by his groans.

Sherlock chuckled breathlessly, "Sorry.. then.." he grinned a bit as well, twisting his head so that he could _watch _the younger, no longer being able to think. His mind was a daze, skin burning and heart hammering in his ears. He bit down a moan before he realized he did it; letting the next one come freely.

Jim reopened his eyes slightly, realising Sherlock's eyes were on him so he grabbed his hair harshly again, pulling him back more onto him. "You're looking pretty red, Sherlock.." He breathed, his voice shakey.

"Like it?" Sherlock asked teasingly, trembles running up and down trough his body. "Though.. if you.. don' stop... pullin' 't.. my hair.. I'll finish..soon.." he moaned out breathily.

"I'm guessing..y-you like it rough then? Hmm? I think red's a good look on you...your blood for example." Jim smiled weakly, feeling his knees weak despite moving faster than before as he felt desperate for friction. He let go of Sherlock's hair, running his hands down the man's back.

"We will.. see.." Sherlock panted out silently, "who will.. be the.. first one.. to bleed.. and to die.." he screwed his eyes shut, trembling heavily as he grew closer. "But know.. that.. I will.. do it.. if I.. if I.. _win_." Sherlock let out something between moan and sob, muffling it into the mattress as he reached his ending point, spilling his seed over the covers.

Jim pulled out not long afterwards, just before releasing with a groan of ectasy, he knees failing him and collapsed on top of the taller man, panting. He moved off Sherlock, staring intently at him for his reaction; seeing that he seemed more alive than ever, just like himself. Jim was slightly lost for words, his brain not functioning properly as he hung onto that feeling, taking in everything that had but happened with a grin.

Sherlock rolled onto his back, tugging the younger up and next to him. He snatched Jim's palms and laid them onto his warm cheeks to cool himself a bit. "I am not afraid to say that it was fun." he grinned when his heart calmed down enough. "Give me five minutes. Feel free to fall asleep." Sherlock yawned widely himself as he rolled off of the bed gracelessly, tugging his pants and shirt over himself haphazardly. "I have responsibilities as a host."

"I don't sleep. Especially not in your flat." Jim smiled widely at the other, his eyes still reptillian but with a warmth of being alive, instead of cold but he knew that would soon fade. He put his own clothes back on, just the shirt, underwear and trousers. The shirt was untidily done, but he didn't care. "Go do whatever it is you have to." He reached inside his jacket's pocket, pulling out his cigarette, lighter and phone.

Sherlock exited the room chuckling and moved into the livingroom. He noticed both John and Lestrade asleep and quickly moved into Mrs. Hudson's flat to steal two blankets. He arranged one over Lestrade, realizing that he would earlier collapse than managing to move him into more comfortable position. Kneeling up, Sherlock tugged John's shirt up to take a look at the wounds. It was good; the bleeding had stopped and they were already starting to heal. He repeated the process with John's trousers, trying his hardest not to wake him up, and sighed in relief when he finished. "Sleep well." he murmured softly, tugging the blanket over John's frame.

Stood in the doorway, Jim smirked and rolled his eyes at Sherlock's treatment of John. He was glad he was above that all. Caring for another? Weakness. He breathed out the last of his smoke, putting the cigarette out. Right now he only cared about 5 things. 1- Killing whoever pushed him. 2- Getting to play the game. The great game. The reason he was living. 3- Making sure Sebastian had succsessfully made it home alive. 4- Irene was obtaining the _correct_ information for him from a certain client and number 5 -Stayin' Alive.

His cold eyes analysed the room once more before falling onto Sherlock again. "I think I should be going now.." He spoke, half still in thought.

"So soon?" Sherlock grinned lightly when he stood up. "And here I wanted to keep you." he smirked. "Well, feel free to and let's see each other in five years." he added with a silent chuckle.

"Keep me? As what? A pet?" Jim scoffed, "Better be a nice collar," he mused and looked around, an idea sparking and all traces of happiness, joy or amusement suddenly dissolved and left. Left him cold and brooding as before, looking at John, then Lestrade, then finally the enemy himself. His cold eyes bore into Sherlock's for a few seconds more. "Seeyou, Sherlock Holmes" Jim left quickly, putting a piece of gum in his mouth.

"Sure enough." Sherlock muttered, letting a sigh out himself. He moved to sit in the armchair, not really in the mood to be alone; just as he had been feeling _warm_ before, he was now cold, freezing even. He tugged his knees against his chest, curling in on himself, and fell asleep soon after.

**Meet me tommorow. Cemetery. 9pm. -JM**


	29. Tea and Talks

**Title: Of Rats and Men**

**Chapter: Tea and Talks**

**Place: London - Baker Street; Jim's Flat**

**Characters: John Watson; Sherlock Holmes; Gregory Lestrade; James Moriarty; Sebastian Moran**

**Mood: Desperate; Daring; Doubtful **

**Warnings: None**

* * *

Sherlock woke up only partly when he heard his phone signal a new message and read it, even though the words were blurred.

**I bbm't hhbv daasf wtg Jrdne. -Rgg**

He pressed it to send, curling his arms more tightly around himself since he was feeling terribly cold, and fell asleep again.

* * *

**I don't speak moron. -JM**

Jim sat in his apartment, high above the city and stared out the window thinking about what had happened. He couldn't sleep, he never really did sleep if he could help it. He needed to think. The walls of his apartment were a clinical white, the room quite empty besides a few pieces of furniture. What did that say about his head? That it was cold, empty? He rolled up another cigarette, mind absent as he sat alone and cold. He had left his jacket and shoes and socks at Baker Street. Purposely? He'd let his subconcious decide that, needing to focus.

Sebastian's heavy steps echoed in the hollow room as he walked in, Jim seeing the man's reflection in the glass.

"You're late. Where've y' been?" Sebastian commented.

"Out. Busy. None of your concern." Jim replied softly, staring out at the shining lights.

"Alright." The elder shrugged off Jim's disgruntledness and approached him, handing over a memory stick. The criminal made no sigh of recognition until a few seconds later when he snapped out of his trance.

"Thank you Bassy.." He studied it before putting it in his trouser pocket, checking his phone again.

"I'm going to bed. I'd advise you to come too." Sebastian raised an eyebrow at Jim.

"I'm not tired"

"I know, come on." He pulled Jim up as if he was a child and at the moment he was acting like one. Because he was planning.

* * *

It was early morning when John stirred, jerking awake. He rubbed his head against the side of the soft couch, not knowing where he was in his sleepiness but he cared little. His body ached; only a ghost of what it had done the night before and the drugs had broken down and vanished in his sleep. John reopened his eyes to the world again, seeing the rather gaunt features of 221-B and he sat up.

* * *

Lestrade woke up few minutes after eight in the morning, feeling quite horrible. His back was cold and aching even though he had a blanket over himself. Not that he knew where he got that. He stood up, still more asleep than not, and almost fell onto the sofa. "S'rry.." he muttered towards John, unsure if the man was awake or not, and left into the bathroom to get a shower.

"S'alright." John replied sleepily, waking up properly with a small yawn. He rubbed his eyes and watched Lestrade leave. He was glad he had fallen asleep before he heard..well, heard Jim and Sherlock together. John felt slightly annoyed by it despite it not being his place to feel that way on it. He made his way to the kitchen, shakily, with the blanket still around him.

Sherlock opened his eyes to the sound of the shower, noticing that neither Lestrade nor John were in the living room. That was weird. Well, one of them was in the bathroom obviously. He yawned and stretched, picking up his cellphone. He read the message from Jim, not really getting it at first, but then he flicked to the two previous, body shaking with laughter he didn't bother with muffling.

**Don't you? I thought you would be fluent. I meant: 'can't, I am having date with miss Adler.' If you haven't killed her yet, that's it. -SH**

**Irene is in Kyoto. She's busy. 9pm, I'll be waiting. JM**

John walked back into the living room, looking over at Sherlock and sat down. "G'morning."

"Good morning John." Sherlock murmured almost absently as his eyes scanned trough the message. He frowned; that was not right. Irene herself asked him, it was impossible for her to just.. fly away into Japan and forget to inform him.

**Still alive, I hope. -SH**

Not that there was any point in worrying, but if Jim really got rid of Irene, it would be because he had told him about her disloyality. If Jim did kill her, it was all his fault. Sherlock clawed his nails into his knees, feeling quite sick.

**No concern of yours. 9pm. JM**

"You alright?" He asked, sitting down and looking over at the taller man. "Sleep well?" John realised that might have been a stupid question but he meant well by it.

Sherlock's eyes widened a bit at that message; so she was either death or soon to be. Fuck. He noticed his breathing growing quick and shallow. A panic attack, he realized. He couldn't look up at John; he was the reason of one death. Murderer. He had never killed anyone - the only person he ever wanted to, being Jim. And now- _fuck_.

"Something wrong...?" John asked, looking quite concerned for him. Had Jim done something..? He was looking at his phone so maybe..

"N-no. No. Nothing." Sherlock jerked up at John's voice. He gathered himself, taking deep breaths to calm down.

**Will you tell me which one is it, or can I just choose one randomly? -SH**

He quickly sent the message, finally able to look at John. "Good morning. How are you feeling? Also I apologise for the.. scream. It was an experiment. Not sex; just experiment." he rambled quickly, as if trying to press the five sentences into as little time as possible.

"Oh. Right. Of course not. Having sex with him would be uhh kinda stupid. Unnecessary." He commented with a shrug, "You're smarter than that. Has he left..? Um..thanks by the way." John smiled, "For saving me back there. Thought he was being serious with the stuff he was saying. Tounge like poison.."

"Oh I did have sex with him." Sherlock shrugged, moving up to make himself a coffee. "Just much more later. That scream was only a.. joke." he waved it off carelessly, putting the kettle on and waiting for the water to boil. "And I guess you are welcome. Doesn't matter much, Jim wouldn't have killed you."

"A joke? I thought it was an experiment.." John asked, shaking his head and checking his phone.

**Are you ok? I will be there next time. I was incapacitated. -**

**Incapacitated? JW**

**My hand was removed. -**

John sighed, annoyed. More death, more harm he was causing. And his feelings for Sherlock didn't help anything.

"Well, Jim said it would be embarrassing if you two heard me scream." Sherlock shrugged again, watching the kettle with impatience. Honestly, how long did it take for water to boil? That was ridiculous. "So I did." he gave him a fleeting smile, feeling a bit less cold then before. A lot less horrible. "You said Jim told you something.." Sherlock remembered, "What was it?"

"Ah." John replied to Sherlock's explanation but his slight smile faded. What Jim said? Apart from telling Sherlock everything John felt about him when his broken body would hang above, slitting his throat in front of the other. That Sherlock himself would hate John, loathe him for being so stupid and finish the job himself. That they'd string up his corpse, give him away piece by piece to his sister only after planting his head on the wall.

"Nothing.. Just being a dick."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Stop being a moron." he sighed. "Tell me what he said, it might be important." he urged John, giving him a look. The water finally boiled and Sherlock turned around to pour it into his mug. He inhaled the scent of coffee, almost moaning out loud. Coffee was _ambrosia_.

John sighed, knowing he'd have to say something. "He was just being really creepy and trying to be scary. Y'know, stuff like 'I'll cut you up into pieces and send you to your sister' or 'I'll kill you grr.'" John made up the last one with a shrug, putting on a really bad Irish accent to try and lighten the mood, "I think it's just that..he had been Richard and that still creeps me out."

"You are a terrible liar, Watson." Sherlock leaned to look at him from closer proximity and sighed. "He said I won't come to get you." he guessed. "That I was on his side. That's why you were creeped out by the fact that I had sex with him. What else?" he demanded, not bothering to sound gentle.

"Yeah." John nodded, "And it matched up what you said before when you had the gun to my head.. so.. kind of creeped me out. He didn't lay a hand on me though, just that guy. Moran?" He shrugged, feeling uncomfortable and avoiding eye contact, knowing he had to lie. He couldn't tell him. "That was it."

"So he told you exactly the same _I_ told you before. And you _still_ don't believe it." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Are you waiting to have it in written form, or what?" he raised his eyebrows at the male. He knew he was being cruel; but in some way, he wanted the older feel just as terrible as he was feeling.

"Yeah yeah, I get it alright? I was just being stupid. Drop it." He warned, shaking his head; thinking that Sherlock could be going about this in a better way.

"And what makes you think I want to do anything you want me to?" Sherlock asked, careful to keep his voice cold and emotionless. He poured a large amount of sugar into his coffee, gently stirring it without a spoon, just with the movement of his wrist.

"Nothing. Because you do what you want. Or what Lestrade tells you to do. Or Moriarty." He stated firmly, dismissing it with a roll of his eyes. "Just whatever Sherlock.."

"So you _can_ use your brain, how interesting." Sherlock noted coldly. "Though it's a bit better than letting myself get kidnapped, just because it's a fucking _woman_ who asks me to crawl into an unknown car."

"The fact whether it was a woman or not didn't matter! She talked like a member of the organisation and I wanted to confront them again." John defended himself, "I just wanted it to end! I don't want my fucking girlfriends to be murdered! I don't want my friends to be killed! I don't want strangers to die because of me, Sherlock!"

"Don't tell me. I didn't kill any-" the younger froze for a moment when Irene's face flashed over his eyes. Fuck. "Forget it. I am not arguing with you. Don't get caught next time; I would just let Jim finish you off." he lied softly and moved into the living room. Sherlock laid the mug onto the table, absently picking his book up from the floor, and moved to sit in his chair.

"Thanks." John replied bluntly, going over to the window, watching London go by. He just wanted to tell Sherlock how he felt but he couldn't. He was a coward. John Watson, the coward who was going to war.

Sherlock laughed bitterly, tough he muffled it into the coffee, almost spilling it on himself. "You know what's the best, though?" he asked loudly, his voice cheerful and fake. He was turning into Moriarty. Sherlock snorted at that thought. "But really, John; you know what's best?" he didn't even know why he couldn't just let it be.

"What Sherlock? What is _best_?" He asked, turning around to look at the annoyingly cheerful man. Everything about him was just so perfect..It was unfair entirely.

"That you don't even _know_ what happened. That's fun, isn't it." he laughed bitterly, because it was easier than cry. "Did Jim tell you I hate you?" he stopped laughing just as suddenly as he started, turning to look straight at the older, titling his head in curiosity.

John nodded in answer, looking at his hands; knowing he was being stupid. He looked back at Sherlock with a frown, "What happened then? What's making you all giggly?"

"Oh nothing much." Sherlock waved it off. "I just sold Irene off to get you out. And Jim was right." all traces of teasing or humour disappeared from Sherlock's face, but he never moved his eyes away from John's. "I do."

"I can understand." John nodded, his heart sinking even worse than before. He really did hate John. Of course. He'd have no other reason to feel anything else. His eyes didn't leave Sherlock, not caring if he could read a million and one emotions off him like a book. He swallowed hard, looking out the window again. "You're an idiot."

"No I am not." Sherlock shook his head. He frowned a bit, seeing the raw sadness and _hurt_ in John's eyes. He moved to stand up, crossing the room to him and turned him around by his shoulders, face just inches from his. "See? _That's_ why I fucking hate you, John." he grit trough his teeth. "Why can't you just.. _decide_? Why can't you either.. _want_ me or let me move on?!"

He was completley thrown off, suprised by this. John looked up into the other's eyes, his beautiful eyes. "Sherlock.." John started, not knowing what to do or say. This was hard and he was a coward. "I.." He cut himself off, not being able to continue. "You don't do normal. You don't do relationships. You do crazy consulting criminals and drugs. You..you don't do people like me." He spoke honestly, looking up at Sherlock, deciding to let it all spill out. Worse comes to worse, he leaves and joins the army alone. "Yet.. Look at us. You're inches away and I can't tell if I want to punch you or kiss you."

"And what do you think I was talking about." Sherlock rolled his eyes and moved a bit away, as if physically exhausted by the conversation. "You hate me, then you like me, then we have sex, then you go and find yourself a girlfriend, because, obviously, you aren't gay, then you keep on looking at me like.. like _that_.." he exclaimed in frustration, throwing his arms up. "Like you _like_ me and _want_ me.. and then you go and talk about having children and getting married. Why can't you just.. decide one way or the other?"

"I like you, okay?!" John yelled at him, running a hand through his hair. "I like you Sherlock. A lot. I want to be with you. It's just different and me being who I am, I'm _scared_ of different. I like you. You...make me want to scream with anger yet you make me feel so happy and safe when I'm with you. That night I was ill and you were with me..It confused me so much since I'm trying not to think with my heart but it kinda just happens. I'm sorry that I'm stupid! I'm sorry! I can't help it." John shook his head, feeling himself shake. "You're not safe with me anymore."

"You sound as if I ever was safe anywhere. With anyone." Sherlock smiled a bit, his eyes softening. He reached his hand to gently run his fingers down John's jaw. "Just.. just think about it. Decide what you want. _Grow up_." he said almost desperately before he moved away. "I am going to see if Irene is still alive now.." he sighed and moved to get his phone. Jim had yet to answer his question. He sighed again.

**Hello miss Adler, are you free in about half an hour? We could meet where we met ;) -SH**

John watched him carefully before nodding and sitting back down. He was right. That's all John needed to do. Think. Think and grow up. Especially grow up. Decide what the hell was going on with him, how he felt and just bloody think. "Why? What's happened to her?" He asked, just loud enough for him to hear. John's hand went to his jaw where Sherlock's hand had just been.

"I told you, didn't I." Sherlock said absently, staring at the screen of his cellphone. Nothing. That was bad. Both Irene and Jim were always fast to text back, yet, now were both of them silent. "I told Jim something that could possibly get him to kill her. I needed him to stop concentrating on you, so I gave him Irene."

"But isn't she like his left hand or something? Surely he wouldn't kill her..?" He asked, feeling even worse. He should have just died and saved everyone the hassle.

**I'm busy. Who is this? - IA**

"Irene works for herself.." Sherlock sighed, his eyes widening at the response. "She.. obtained certain information from me and waited almost a week before giving it to Jim." he explained in soft voice. "Up till that point, Irene had been working _with_ him.."

**Surely you haven't forgotten me, miss Adler. Well, enjoy Japan if you will. -SH**

**Oh of course not. Thank you. IA**

* * *

Jim smiled as he replied to Sherlock, toying with Irene's cameraphone in his hands. He was sat still in the same position as before. Sebastian approached him with a piece of toast on a plate, shoving it onto his lap.

"Eat." He spoke roughly, sitting opposite.

"Busy. It's Tuesday, I'm fine." Jim replied absently. "Busy."

* * *

"Ah right ok." John replied with a small nod.

"_Fuck_." Sherlock cursed loudly and threw the phone against the wall where it crashed into pieces. Too bad, he had grown quite fond of that one. He breathed heavily and moved to slump into the armchair, covering his eyes with his hand.

"Sherlock..?" John asked carefully, going over and picking up the pieces of his phone, placing them on the table together gently. "What's happened..?"

"How the _hell_ am I supposed to know? I am not a freaking seer!" he snapped. "Sorry.. sorry.. just.. sorry.." Sherlock muttered few seconds later, curling into himself. No reason in going out to find her; she was either dead or on run - and he really, really hoped it was the second.

"It's fine, Sherlock. More than fine. Just..d'you wanna be alone right now or something..? D'you want me to get you something?" He asked softly, trying to put the phone back together again but he was no technician.

"Do what you wish." Sherlock forced himself to sound calm. He watched the skin of his palm as if it was the most interesting thing ever. "Though I have a question. _Richard_, did he ever told you about any of his relatives? If they are dead, then where they are buried?"

"Why? Don't turn to murder.." He shook his head, sighing. "He was close to his gran. Hated his dad. His dad was a git. He didn't have any siblings and his mum was killed when he was little." John shrugged, giving up with the phone and sitting down. "He's got Sebastian." He suggested.

"Where is she buried?" Sherlock repeated the question, perking up a bit. It was something to think about at least. He looked at John, trying to get him to _see_ just how important it was for him to remember.

John thought for a second, "Dublin, I think. Where he grew up. ...Why are you interested in where his grandmother is buried?" Sherlock wasn't thinking about digging her up..was he?

"That's no good.." Sherlock sighed, ignoring John's question completely. He reached over to John and fished the male's phone from his pocket before he could protest, and tapped a message, deciding to try something.

**You are getting me irritated by not answering my question and that's kind of ruining the rest of the good mood I had acquired yesterday night with your kind assistance. -SH**

He sent it to the number he remembered as Irene's, knowing that that kind of a message won't make sense to anyone but Jim.

**My aim in life is not to make sure you are in a good mood, Mr Holmes. IA**

* * *

Jim simply smirked, muttering, "Clever boy.." He had figured out that it was him already. Oh he did care for Irene too much. Shame.

"You should eat, or do I have to force that down your throat, James?"

"Do me a favour and shut up."

* * *

Sherlock rolled his eyes a bit, deciding that he wasn't in the mood to play games with the criminal. Well, at least he _thought_ it was Jim who was answering his question - if only for the fact that the person on the other side didn't ask about the last message.

**Then just tell me on which fucking graveyard do you want me, or the next time we meet on that kind of place will be your own funeral. -SH**

**Finally. :) Can't believe I had to do that to Irene /just/ to get your attention properly. The one 5 minutes away from St. Bart's. IA**

**And it's back to that, isn't it. All is about attention. I enjoyed your attention very much earlier, /miss Adler/. -SH**

Sherlock couldn't help but smile a bit, even though he knew he shouldn't. But Irene was smart; he just hoped she was smart enough to run. Run for her life. And to call him - or John, since she surely had both of their numbers remembered - if she needed help. "I need a phone." Sherlock realized, a bit surprised, and looked up at John as if that would help him with his problem.

"You're using mine there. You might as well keep it." John shrugged. "Just don't throw it off the wall when you're having a tantrum."

**Of course you did. Everything is about attention. All attention is good attention. IA**

"I need to be able to use my number." Sherlock specified, he handed the cellphone back to it's rightful owner and stood up. "Do you reckon I should bother my brother to get me one..?" he titled his head at the older.

"I don't see why not." John put the phone in his pocket. "You're lucky you have a brother with that kind of power. Go ahead. He'd be happy to hear from you." He spoke as he looked around the room.

"Lucky.." Sherlock scoffed. If Mycroft wasn't that.. _important_, he would never have gotten his hands onto Jim and never would have sold his _own brother_ off. But really, nasty voice in Sherlock's head piped out, how is that different from what had _he_ done? Hadn't he sold Irene off to her death, just to get John back? Sherlock sighed. "Could you send a message to him? I kind of lack the tools to do so."

"Yeah sure," John spoke as he got his phone out, "What d'you want me to say?" He asked, looking over at him.

"Just for him to get me a phone. You can add something along the lines of 'fuck off', if you wish to." Sherlock rolled his eyes lightly, eyes lit up in amusement. "You know - _that_ would be quite funny to hear. Or read. Whatever. Please, _please_ do that."

"Ok then" John nodded, typing into his phone:

**Mycroft, get me a phone I broke mine. Also, fuck off. SH**

John turned the screen to him, "That alright?"

Sherlock leaned to look at the screen, small grin playing over his lip. "I thought you would use your signature, though." he mumbled, as if disappointed. "But really, my brother would know you sent it anyway." Sherlock's grin widened.

**Understood. My PA will appear on BS 221-B shortly. -MH**

He smiled, putting it in his pocket again. "He said his PA will be here. What kind of guy has a P- oh yeah. Mycroft." John laughed slightly before looking over at the door, "Greg's been in there a long time."

"I suspect he is either trying to drown himself or fell asleep in there." Sherlock said carelessly. "And the girl.." he frowned slightly, "She is _interesting_. She doesn't ask questions, I think she would kill for Mycroft without even batting her eyes."

"Maybe I should check on him.." John stood up and walked to the bathroom without listening to the end of Sherlock's speaking. He stepped his way over to the bathroom, knocking gently on the door. "Greg, you ok?"

* * *

Gregory jerked awake at the sound of John's voice, finding himself sitting on the cold ground. Very smart, he snapped at himself, to fall asleep in just as uncomfortable position as before. "Ya..'m fine." he called towards the door, climbing up onto his feet. Greg tied a towel around his waist, deciding to go to bed and sleep. For a long, long time.

* * *

"John." Sherlock called, slight frown appearing on his forehead. John was ignoring him. _Again_. He hated it. "Lend me your phone, I need to send a text."

"Right, ok then. Just making sure.." John nodded before turning around and getting his phone out. He handed it to Sherlock before sitting back down. His eyes followed Greg as he went to bed, slightly concerned for him.

**Jim. John is ignoring me. :( -SH**

He sent the message and handed John's phone back to him. He hated being ignored. It made him feel surreal, as if he didn't even exist. As if he was locked in a dream and couldn't wake up. Empty. Dead. Sherlock sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose. He listened to Lestrade's steps, finding it quite amusing that the older wouldn't mind using his bed. He had to be really exhausted.

"You planning on doing anything today?" John asked, trying to add some voice to the silence.

**Awwwh. You two had a lovers quarrel? JM**

* * *

Jim didn't even bother with the alias, just looking around the blank room with a vacant expression. His mind however, was working at a million miles per hour. Sebastian simply watched him, sorting his gun cartridges out.

* * *

**No. That is the difference between me and John; and you and 'Bassy'. We are no lovers. -SH**

Sherlock's lips twitched into a small smile; at least _Jim_ was answering him, most probably storing everything he had done and said into his brain, and even if he was working on something else. Jim was paying attention to him, as was Sherlock. It really was refreshing. He looked up at John, the smile disappearing, making place for a frown. "Later." he answered, "You don't need to talk to me just because you don't like silence."

**Sebastian and I are NOT lovers. JM**

"I'm talking to you because I'm interested and I actually like talking to you, Sherlock." John spoke, looking at the arm of the chair as if was the most interesting thing in the whole universe. "Even if the conversation is very one sided. I just like listening to you." He shrugged, going quickly to the kitchen to make himself some tea.

"Yet, most of the time, you ignore me." Sherlock muttered under his breath.

**Ah, such a strong reaction. I love it. -SH**

"I don't mean to. It's just, you ramble on a lot. I like it, but it's hard for me to kinda let it all go in." John shrugged, voice apologetic. "I don't mean to ignore you."

**It's a strong reaction due to your apparent incompatence to get a fact into your head. JM**

**Sure it is. You might want to turn the tables for a moment and pay attention to him; who knows, maybe he will stop trying to cause you bodily harm. ;) -SH**

"Well, you don't _need_ to pay attention to me, do you." Sherlock mumbled silently, eyes trained onto the screen once again. "I will live even without that."

"I know. But I _want_ to." He poured the water into the kettle and waited for it to boil.

**Why would I want him to stop..? JM**

**I will leave answering that question to you. -SH**

"Do you, now." Sherlock looked up and watched the older trough the doorway with great interest. "Now _that_ is interesting."

"Really..?" John asked, putting the teabag in the mug, "Want one?" John called, not daring to turn around and look at him; he had the stupidest smile on his face and he didn't know why.

"I have coffee." Sherlock shrugged. "Yes it is, actually. It doesn't look that way." he rolled his eyes. "And now _Jim_ is ignoring me as well. Stupid." he complained, crossing his arms over his chest.

He poured the water and made his tea, walking over and tried to take his smile off but failed. "How is it interesting? I just want to pay attention to you." John really couldn't see it as he sipped his tea.

* * *

Jim stared at the phone, just frozen like a computer. Sebastian raised an eyebrow before shaking his head. "I'm going out." He muttered even though he knew James wouldn't listen. He got up and left without saying another word.

**What about you and John then? What's the deal with that? You like him, he obviously likes you. JM**

* * *

"You don't seem to understand just how.._important _attention is." Sherlock gave him a fleeting smile, "Why do you think we play the Game with Jim?"

**I am sure you are aware just how.. difficult John is. -SH**

"You play with each other..for attention?" He asked, quite surprised. "I guess attention stops you from being lonely."

**Annoyingly black and white. You have to spell things out or he doesn't understand. It's frustrating that you have to dumb things down. That's why I find you so refreshing. JM**

Sherlock grinned at the cellphone, "Oh he is so right, so right." he shook his head in amusement.

**Oh I am sure he is smarter than I think. As I am sure 'Bassy' understands a tad bit more then you give him credit for. -SH**

"Talking about being ignored.." John muttered, sipping his tea, looking at the brown liquid.

**Oh Bassy is very clever. He makes John look like a Neanderthal. You should have seen the idiot in secondary school. JM**

"I am not ignoring you, I still note your every move and word for later use. I just felt the need to state how was Jim right about some things." Sherlock muttered, not taking his eyes up from the screen just yet, fingers moving quickly to tap a response.

**And now tell me again you are not fond of your little pet. Or is it the other way around? After all; he feeds you, takes you out for walks.. -SH**

* * *

Jim actually laughed, the unusual and almost unnatural sound echoing against the white walls.

**I'm not fond of anyone. I have respect for him. He obeys command. He's different. JM**

* * *

"And what is he right about?" John asked, sipping his tea again."He said

I need to spell everything for you. You don't even know how _true_ is that." Sherlock chuckled lightly, carefully watching the older for reaction, even though he was lightly bend over the phone.

**And that, my dear nemesis, is the perfect base for relationship. -SH**

**I don't do relationships, dear Sherlock. Neither do you, yet you insist with John. JM**

"That's not true. You can go tell him to shove that up his a-" he saw Sherlock's face and laughed, shaking his head. "You think that too. It must be true if a sociopath and a psychopath can see it."

**I guess. It's the biggest challenge, actually :) -SH**

"It _is_ the truth." Sherlock smiled. "I explained why we play the Game.. yet you still got it wrong." he pointed out.

**Each to their own. JM**

"Then explain it to me again. Simply. Since I need things explained to me."

**Of course. Though I hadn't expected you to be scared. How fascinating. -SH**

"As I said." Sherlock leaned forward in the chair, "It's all about attention - and how better get attention than to have war against each other? There is not a minute when I don't think about Jim; not one when he doesn't think about _me_. It makes us.. _alive_."

"Right." John said with a nod, getting the rough idea. "So you and him think about each other all the time because it makes you feel alive.. Alrighty." He repeated Sherlock's words, putting the mug on the side.

**Scared? Of what? JM**

"The fact that you can repeat exactly what I told you, doesn't prove Jim wrong." Sherlock rolled his eyes lightly. "Do you know anything about philosophy?" he quickly tapped a response, setting the phone away to look at John.

**I will let the answer to that question on you. -SH**

"Philosophy? Uhh yeah sure but I'm no Aristoteles. I think therefore I am? Uhh yeah. What about it?" John asked, leaning in his chair to get a better look at Sherlock.

"Aristoteles.." Sherlock sighed a bit. "Who I am talking about is George Berkeley. Have you ever heard 'Esse est percipi'?" he titled his head sideways, looking at John with curiosity.

"Ah right. Him. Yeah, no. Never heard of that." John felt slightly stupider than usual. "That Latin for something? I uhh don't speak it." He scratched his face slightly.

"It basically means 'to be perceived means to exist'. He says that this is the reason why it's so important for humans to have a deity; since deity can perceive every single human being, therefore allowing them to exist." Sherlock explained slowly, staring at the older to be sure he understood.

"Right, ok." John nodded, showing that he understood. "Where are you going with this.. ?"

Sherlock gave him a small smile, "Still not get it? If that.. _theory_ is true, what is so surprising about me and Jim living just for our Game? About us _needing_ each other?"

"Oh ok. I get it. You both need each other to know you're alive? Affirmation since you perceive eachother. Ok." He nodded with a slight smile, just loving to see the other man's smile. Jim made him happy. That.. was disturbing but good in a way. As long as he was happy. But he wasn't safe.

**I will eliminate the threat. -**

"Something like that. We just.. we both know we will _be alive_ as long as the other is breathing and plotting." he chuckled lightly, running his hand over his face in embarrassment. "It sounds weird." Sherlock muttered and looked away, as his cheeks coloured.

John laughed slighty with understanding eyes, "Sherlock, it's fine. It's all fine. Nothing with you is exactly _normal _is it? Your mind and Jim's work differently and it's good. It's good to have different, intelligent and brilliant people in the world. If that's what makes you happy then hooray and stuff." He picked up his mug again and sipped his tea.

"We are the same.." Sherlock shook his head. "Completely the same.. I just never.. killed anyone. Well, not with my own hands, at least.." he frowned, looking down at his hands as if scared to see them covered in blood.

"Unlike me. I'm a murderer. Technically." John shrugged, smiling weakly. "You two a pretty similar. I.. well, I did hear what you two were up to in there. I don't doubt half of London hear you but.. you are both very similar. Even in ways you look and speak and stuff.."

"You didn't kill anyone either.. not with your hands.." Sherlock frowned slightly, watching him with fascination, "And in _where_?" he asked when the rest of the sentence registered in his mind, "Me and Jim? You mean yesterday?" his eyes widened as colour raised into his cheeks, "I thought you said you were asleep.."

"Yeah, yesterday. It's ok though y'know? You and him. You two _are _perfect for eachother. Completely. I was asleep but uh.. got woken up by it. It's ok though. Your life, your house your everything." He gave Sherlock an awkward smile, looking at his hands.

"Oh, you are doing it again." Sherlock frowned and looked away. He contemplated sending another message to Jim, but decided against it in favour of burying his face into the mug of slowly cooling coffee.

"Doing? Doing what?" He asked, feeling his cheeks go red again. He was so bloody transparent it was.. well.. _embarrassing. _He looked at the phone.

**Eliminate who? JW**

**James Moriarty. -**

"Umm.. Sherlock. Creepy organisation guy." He handed the phone to him, "Says he's gonna kill Jim."

Sherlock took the phone, his eyes going wide. He quickly forwarded John's conversation to Jim's number, knowing that if he just sent him a warning, Jim was probable to laugh in his face.

**Whoever you are, if you value your utter existence, don't touch a hair on James Moriarty's head. -SH **He sent it, thoughtful look on his face. "Here you go." Sherlock handed the cellphone back to it's owner.

**I do not. Therefore I have nothing to lose. Do not worry, Mr Holmes. You will join him in hell soon. -**


	30. Visitors

**Title: Of Rats and Men**

**Chapter: Visitors**

**Place: London**

**Characters: John Watson; Sherlock Holmes; Sebastian Moran; James Moriarty; Pet Assassin**

**Mood: Nervous; Hurting; Worried**

**Warnings: Blood; Character Death; Post-traumatic ****syndrome**

* * *

Jim looked at Sherlock's message with a frown, standing up quickly. Damn it. Sebastian wasn't here and would probably be out all night.. Not a problem though. He could handle himself.

Jim quickly went to the drawer and got out his pistol but silently, a masked man grabbed him from behind with a piece of rope, strangling him. Jim struggled to fight away but he kicked the man off and aimed the gun at him, shooting him with a shaky hand. The man got shot in the arm but seemed to show no reaction as he lunged for Jim, throwing the gun away and strangling him with the rope again.

Jim, who was on the floor, tried to kick and punch the man away but simply got punched in return. He bit down on the man's hands but he didn't show any signs of feeling pain even when blood started to pour from his fists. He managed to land a punch on the man to stop him or a second and gave himself a gasp of air although short.

Jim fought against the rope but struggled, trying everything he could to get away. _NO. THIS COULDN'T END NOW_. He had to play the game. He had to beat Sherlock.

A sudden burst of adrenaline shot through him and he kicked the other off him. He ran for the gun, falling over but managed to get it and aim it at the man. The man punched Jim again and again, busting his jaw and causing bruises but he finally fell still when Jim pulled the trigger. Angrily, Jim attacked the dead body over and over with his hear hands until the man's flesh was a wet, soggy and unrecognisable state of mushy redness.

Jim screamed at the corpse before running a hand through his own hair, trying to calm down but saw that his hands were covered in he man's blood. He quickly went to wash it off, realising himself was in a lot of pain and looked awful. His right eye had turned black, all bruised and the bleeding from inside his mouth wouldn't stop.

**I require medical attention. JM**

He sent the text to Sherlock, his blood getting lodged in the keypad as he sent his location to Sherlock as well, risky but needed. The blood just kept pouring from his mouth, staining his teeth and his swollen cheek as he tried to stop the bleeding. He shoved paper into his mouth feeling weak and light headed.

* * *

Sherlock's eyes widened as he looked at the phone; he shot up from the chair and ran into the hall, haphazardly throwing his clothes onto himself. "John!" he called at the older male, realizing that if Jim had it _bad_, he would need John to help. And as John was the only one the organization wouldn't hurt, it would be safer to take him with himself as well. "Hurry up, put on some clothes, we are going out."

**Be there soon. Stop the bleeding; Bassy still alive? -SH** Because if _Jim_ was in need of medical assistance his loyal bodyguard - or babysitter, more likely - was either dead or even worse.

**Bassy's not here. The bleeding won't stop. I think my jaw's broken. JM**

"Huh? Where?" He got up quickly, putting his clothes and shoes on. "What's happened?"

"Doesn't matter. _Hurry_ _up_." Sherlock snapped impatiently, bouncing on his feet. There was not much time, obviously. They just had to get to Jim before anyone else from the organisation did.

**Call him to come. Wouldn't want to go to the graveyard just to see your funeral. Press a towel against the bleeding; if bleeding from vein, push fingers inside of the wound and press vein against bone. -SH**

* * *

Jim spit the blood into the sink, feeling quite sick of the iron taste and started to choke. He managed to save himself but felt woozy, holding onto the sink for support. He couldn't text back, so in his solitude he called out for Sebastian, his gargled words being echoed across the room. The dead body lay, the mashed and mangled face bleeding onto the floor. "S-s-seba.." He tried yelling but proceeded to cough.

* * *

John went to the door, holding it for Sherlock. "All ready. Come on then!"

Sherlock nodded, feeling a bit relieved that he was in action, and almost ran out into the corridor. He stopped for a second on the front step and turned around, reaching his hand to grab John's wrist. "We need to hurry." Sherlock moved to jog down the stairs, pulling the man behind himself.

John nodded, following quickly and ignoring the blush that fell onto his face. He, with urgency, kept behind him until they got outside, following him until he felt it neccessary to tell him what was going on. "Is it Jim? Did they get to him?" With that look, he knew it must be.

Sherlock didn't bother with giving an answer, instead flagged down a cab and crawled inside, reciting the address he had memorised even before he was seated. He tugged John harshly behind himself, even leaning over him to close the door, and urged the driver to 'hurry the fuck up'.

So he was right. They had gotten to Jim. John felt his blush only grow as Sherlock leant over him, got so close to him but he knew now was not the time to be getting shy. Jim was at risk and he was Sherlock's reason for living. He watched London go by in a flash from the seat in the taxi.

When the cab pulled to a stop, Sherlock threw the money over at the driver, barking at him that he was supposed to wait twenty minutes, and if they won't need him then leave. He almost stumbled out of the car, running into the building and up the stairs.

He stood to a halt in front of the door he knew to lead to Jim's flat and tried the door knob. Locked. He knocked loudly, hoping for the criminal to come open, so he wouldn't have to pick the lock up.

* * *

Hearing the knock, Jim dragged himself from the sink, though he was already on his knees. He pulled himself up, stumbling to the door and leaning on it for support. He coughed the blood out of his system again, trying to shift the lock but he felt too weak from the loss of blood and his vision was doubled. He moved to the wall for support, getting blood all over it's clinically clean whiteness.

"Sher.." Jim tried to call but it can out as a gargled whisper as he slid down the wall, feeling faint as his whole body ached.

* * *

Getting no response, John pushed Sherlock out of the way and stepped back, doing a run up and charging into the door, smashing it open off it's hinge. "There.."

Sherlock gave him a look, "Very subtle there." he stepped quickly trough the doorway, looking around for the criminal. He found him instantly and crouched down, circling his arms beneath Jim's to shift him. "Feeling well there, Jimmy boy?" he murmured silently, even as he dragged him towards an armchair. "Where do you have your first aid kit, by the way?"

Jim's angry and pained look turned into a smile, looking over to the kitchen to indicate where the first aid box was. "Brought your pet huh..?" He teased, coughing the blood away. "The moron didn't stand a chance." Jim mused as he looked at the mashed face of the man who had tried to kill him.

John moved to the kitchen, getting the first aid kit.

"I think you don't want to see _me_ trying to give you a first aid." Sherlock chuckled lightly. He arranged Jim so that the younger was sitting comfortably and quickly looked him over. "Lean forward, let the blood come freely.." he instructed as he noticed most of the blood was coming from behind Jim's lips. "Do you have your phone on you?"

Jim leaned forwards as told, taking Irene's phone from his pocket and handing it over. "There.. Why d'you wan' it?" He found it hard to talk with the blood.

John returned with the kit, looking Jim over, noticing the strangle marks, the bruising, the blood, the hickey.. John proceeded to treat Jim the best he could with the limited supplies at hand.

"This might need surgery.." He spoke honestly, looking at Jim's jaw. "Way out of place."

Sherlock nodded at John's words and leaned over to Jim to get his attention, "Do you want John to do it, or go to hospital?" he murmured his question, looking intently at the male. "And tell me Bassy's number, I need him to get his ass here."

"He'll need a _proper_ surgery in an OR. Not here.. He'll have to go to hospital. What about that guy..?" John looked over at the body.

"Dead" Jim commented gently before reciting Sebastian's number to him. "I can't go to hospital. Just fix this here." He snapped at John.

"I'm not a surgeon, Moriarty."

"Just do it, John. You will do fine." Sherlock urged him softly. He moved to sit on the arm of the chair, leaning the injured man against him. "Tell me what I need to do to assist."

**Come back to your position; Jim injured, possibility of other attackers high. -SH**

He quickly tapped a message to Moran and put the phone into his own pocket, so that he won't forget where he left it.

Sighing, John agreed to do so with a rather reluctant nod. He got Jim to open his mouth, feeling his jaw and thinking quickly. He began to get to work, making Jim turn over to let the blood just flow out. He pushed the link of his jaw upwards quite abrupty. John then made Jim to open his mouth again and went into the first aid kit, begining to set up the split in his gum the best he could.

Sebastian walked in quickly, pulling his gun out and aiming it at John.

"I'm helping him, idiot." He looked at Moran before getting to his work again.

Sebastian wearily looked at the state of Jim before looking at Sherlock.

Sherlock move to stand up, having to rearrange the criminal to do so, and motioned for Moran to follow him into the other room. He needed John to concentrate on Jim and having a man who had tortured him not two days ago breath down his neck would not be helpful. He jumped to sat up on the - clinically clean - table, looking at the man as if he wanted to x-ray him with his eyes. "What happened earlier; why did you leave?"

"That's classified." Sebastian's eyes trained on the other, analysing him over. "Why are you here?" He asked in return, putting his gun in it's holster.

"I was bored." Sherlock lied with a shrug. He noted all of the small details on the older male. "I would ask you not to aim or _talk_ at John while he is working. Might be a bit.. uncomfortable experience due to your last meeting." he narrowed his eyes at Moran. "And I am sure you don't want your.. _boss_ unable to talk for the rest of his - admittedly short – life."

"Bored..?" Sebastian scoffed, "You really do sound like him. Fine, I have no reason to talk to Watson anyways." He looked Sherlock over again, "I'd ask how you got here but I think I already know the answer. Blowing cover over this.. And how the hell did he get in? His face doesn't look too good." Sebastian mused, looking over at the body.

Sherlock's lips twitched into an easy smile, "I think his face is the result of Jim's bad mood." he said lazily. "And as I don't know this place as good as Jim or you, I am unsure about how he got inside. You tell me. Or don't, just make sure that won't happen again." Sherlock moved to stand up, "Don't make the doctor nervous." he repeated again, moving back to the living room.

"Alright." He nodded, putting a cigarette in his mouth and walking around the edge of the room and looking for where he could have gotten in.

Jim watched him move around with careful eyes, distracting him from the pain he was in despite John's best efforts.

Sherlock moved to lean against the wall, watching John work. He could still see Moran out of the corner of his eyes, carefully mapping his position. He really didn't want John flashbacking or something, and most definitely not when he had sharp things close to Jim's neck. "Anything you want me to do to help, John?" Sherlock asked in a silent voice, as not to startle him.

"Get him out of here.." John said almost as quietly, trying to remain calm as he worked. "Passing me the gauze would be of help too thanks.." He requested with a weak smile, keeping his eyes on Jim.

Sherlock nodded and crossed the room towards John. He found the gauze in the first aid kit and handed it to the older. "One sec." he murmured towards John. Thought that could be quite tricky, he sighed, as John needed to get Moran out of the room to remain calm and Jim needed him to stay for the exactly same reason. He motioned for the oldest male to 'stay out of John's vision', hoping he would understand.

Sebastian nodded, leaving to the side of the room where the large window was and stared out of it, lighting his cigarette and looked down at the city.

"Thank you." John spoke quietly towards Sherlock, using the gauze and continuing. He didn't speak for at least another half an hour before moving his hands away from Jim and sitting him up. "He should be fine for now, but.. I'd really, really advise that he goes to hospital to get it sorted out." John stood up, going to the kitchen sink to wash the blood off his hands and got Jim a glass of water. "It'll be numb for a while. Just be careful, try not to eat for a while until the numbness wears off." He spoke to Jim in a professional manner as if he was just any other patient.

Sherlock snorted lightly at that, "Try not to talk, Jimmy. Who knows, you might be a pleasant company for some time now." he moved to stand next to Moran, lighting up his own cigarette. He watched the older man from the corner of his eyes, plotting. He wanted to try something, curious about the relationship between the two, but first needed to know if the young criminal was listening. Sherlock blew the smoke into the air, lazily watching it curl and disappear.

Jim rolled his eyes, holding the left side of his face as he sat up and took a sip of water. He tried to speak but decided against it, watching Sherlock and Sebastian carefully.

The eldest's eyes just watched the cars and people, who by now looked like ants, scuttle by as he breathed the smoke out.

"I find it quite surprising.." Sherlock leaned against the wall, running his eyes up and down the smoking man. He carefully hid his smirk, noting every smallest twitch Jim made, "..that Jim manages to get even some work done, with a.. distraction like this.." he looked up at Moran meaningfully, watching for reaction.

"I'd stop that if I were you," Moran muttered, not looking at Sherlock. "Your petty attempt to wind James up will not end well for either of you so I suggest you grow up, do what you need to do and leave here before I make you." He breathed the smoke out once more, looking over at Sherlock finally.

"Brilliant." Sherlock breathed out, grin widening. "Thank you, that was a nice reaction. John!" he turned to face the older. "We are going home, come on."

Jim smiled widely, despite the swelling and laughed silently.

Sherlock didn't have to ask John twice to leave, he got up quickly and went to the door; just wanting to leave there and keep away from Moran.

Sebastian stubbed his cigarette out, watching them leave. When they had gone and were already out of the building, Sebastian went quickly to Jim's side and stroked his cheek gently as if the younger was delicate.  
"I completed the mission succsesfully.." He reported, his voice soft.

Jim nodded, resting his head against Sebastian's chest.

"Now that was fun." Sherlock grinned as he jumped down the stairs. He trusted John to follow and almost danced out of the building. "Ooh, that's so nice." he grinned when he saw the cab still waiting for them, and climbed into the backseat.

John followed him down the stairs quickly, a small confused smile on his face but he definitely was not dancing. "What was so fun..? Seeing Jim beaten up or Moran's reaction?" He asked as he got into the backseat next to him.

"Oh I wanted to see if Bassy was really that smart Jim made him to be." Sherlock waved it off, giving John a winning grin. The cab pulled off, driving them back towards the Baker Street. "I hope Lestrade hasn't gone all moron on us, though." he tapped his chin thoughtfully.

"And was he..?" John asked, smiling at Sherlock's grin. He was pleased to see him happy, rather than seeing him sulking. When the cab stopped, John opened the door, stepping out onto the street. It was already late morning. Had time really flown so quickly? "I'm sure Greg's fine."

"Yes he was." Sherlock grinned a bit wider, moving out of the cab to follow after John. "How are you so sure? He has a phobia of rodents and is sleeping in a room with rats. _And_ if he woke up and found us gone, neither of us answering our phones? Since mine is broken and your is _still_ on the table?"

"I guess.. Well, we'll see when we get in there." John moved towards 221-B and stepped inside. "Thanks by the way." He stopped to face Sherlock, smiling up at him before heading up the stairs.

"For what?" Sherlock raised his eyebrows in confusion, staring at the male's back, as if that would give him his answer.

"Just..thank you." John smiled as he opened the door and walked into the living room. Sherlock didn't hate him or get mad at him for feeling how he felt. He acknowledged John's feelings.. without any fuss or bother.

"Greg?" John called, looking around.

Sherlock walked inside as well, looking around the room. He saw no changes from when before they left, meaning: "Still asleep." he rolled his eyes and moved to lay Irene's cellphone next to John's onto the table. Sherlock suddenly grinned lopsidedly and turned to John, eyes lit up, "I nicked Bassy's keys." he informed him cheerfully.

John turned around, looking at Sherlock with surprise and laughed. "What? How? And are you gonna keep on calling him 'Bassy'?" He asked, smiling. "Why d'you need the keys anyway? You saw how bloody safe that place looks. Cleaner than a hospital. He'll change the locks. Change location."

"Of course he will." Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Jim would have done that anyway, since now we both know where he lives." he moved to sit down in his chair, legs hanging over one of the arms and head cushioned on the other. "Just wanted to piss him off. He should have been paying attention." the young male smirked, looking at John, almost upside down.

"Well of course." John laughed, "With a..distraction..like this." He mocked the tone Sherlock used with Sebastian earlier, "Of course he was going to be distracted." He sat down on the other arm-chair, smiling. "That's Jim's phone..?"

"No." Sherlock answered the question, not really in the mood to elaborate. "Talking of Jim.." he muttered, moving to sit up in the arm chair, "I really need a shower.. forgot about it in the morning. And then just.. wasn't time for that." Sherlock sighed and stood up. "Don't get yourself kidnapped while I am in the bathroom, _please_." he turned to John, raising a sarcastic eyebrow at him.

"I'll try, but I am oh so very desireable right now." John smiled, going to the kitchen to wash his hands again and make a cup of tea. Tea would be most appriciated right now.

Sherlock emerged from the bathroom twenty minutes later, cigarette in between his lips, and feeling noticeably better without the sweat and stickiness on his skin. He sneaked into his bedroom as not to wake up the sleeping male and quickly found sweatpants and dark shirt. Sherlock looked at Lestrade; it was surprising just how _relaxed_ did the man look. He stood there for a moment, just wondering if he looked like that as well when he slept. And did Jim? Peaceful and content?

John had returned back to his chair already, setting down and took a sip of his tea. He was thinking. Ok, contrary to what Sherlock thought; John did actually think. He was thinking about what Sherlock had said when he told him how he felt. John had to grow up? Surely Sherlock was the childish one.. He took anothe sip of his tea, closing his eyes at it's happy effect.

"You are going to sleep as well, now?" Sherlock commented in a bored drawl, as he stepped out of his bedroom to see John sitting relaxed, his eyes closed. "Sleeping is so.. _boring_!" he exclaimed, as if the idea of anyone sleeping because they _wanted _to insulted him deeply.

"No, not sleeping. Simply enjoying the small things in life. Like tea." He smiled, opening his eyes again. John watched Sherlock's face quite amused. "How's Greg?"

"Asleep. Thought about waking him up, but he would kill me." Sherlock collapsed into his armchair, snatching Irene's cellphone on his way. He quickly scanned trough her last sent and received messages, to find some hint to her current location, but didn't find anything. Not that he really expected to, Irene was way too smart to leave traces if she needed to disappear.

"Good idea. He would kill you, yeah." He smiled slightly, watching him. "Sherlock.. is now a good time to talk about what happened earlier or not..? I.. can understand if your mind is elsewhere." John asked almost timidly, looking at his tea.

"About what happened earlier? _What_ happened earlier?" Sherlock looked at him, slightly confused. He set the cellphone back onto the table, "If you mean the kidnapping, I can't really help you, you know." Sherlock shrugged, "I know nothing about psychology and post traumatic stress disorders.."

"Y'know...about me liking you. A lot." John said in a voice he tried to keep calm. Had Sherlock forgotten already? Of course not..

"I find it interesting that after being almost killed and performing illegal surgery upon a criminal mastermind, you still find this the most important." Sherlock observed in a bored voice, "But talk away, I am very interested in what you have to say."

"Well, yeah." John put the tea down, shifting in his seat. "I do think this is more important. This has been messing with my mind for a while. I can understand how you'd think it was unimportant though. " He shrugged, looking at Sherlock, straight into his eyes.

Sherlock raised his eyebrow, not saying anything for a moment. When it looked as if John wouldn't either, he sighed. "Do continue." he urged the older, absently tapping his fingers against the arm of the chair.

"Well..I just wanna know where we stand. What d'you think of me? You know how I feel about you. But you've got the best poker face there is. I just..I don't know." He shook his head, wondering how on earth he thought he could do this.

"Wrong, John." Sherlock said softly, "That's exactly what I _don't_ know. As to me - we have been trough that countless of times before." he rolled his eyes, "And not once because I wanted to, but mostly because the moron is complete and utter _moron_."

"Ok alright." John leaned forwards in his chair, trying to sum up the courage. "I thought you did know. I..I like you Sherlock. Like, loads. Like..how I normally like girls." He shrugged, realising he wasn't making much sense and that his explanation was bad.

Sherlock snorted, having to cover his mouth as not to laugh out loud. "Yes John, I know _that_. I though I made that clear this morning." he rolled his eyes.

"Oh right..um..then what is it you don't know? Because I've been thinking about that and I.. know I want to be with you. Even if it's not like that. I'm at my happiest just with you, even back there with Jim." John felt his cheeks go red, he hated this.

"As I said in the morning." Sherlock repeated, as if trying to remind John just how _much_ he hated repeating himself, "The question is not whether you like me or not; but if you _want_ me." he narrowed his eyes.

"Right yeah.." John nodded before looking back at him. "I do want you. I know it now." He ran a hand through his hair, looking at Sherlock hopefully. "I'm being stupid though.."

Sherlock grinned widely and leaned a bit forward, resting his head on his palms. "But I don't share. And I am selfish. I won't let you leave if I can help it." he warned.

"Why would I want to leave..?" John smiled widely, feeling relaxed now that Sherlock was smiling too. "I don't care if you don't share. I wouldn't want to be shared. I want you." He laughed slightly, happy he could admit it.

"Oh? And aren't you supposed to leave somewhere in few days?" he raised his eyebrows.

"A lot can happen in few days..and I'll only be gone for a week. Then I'll be back every weekend.." He gave a small smile. "It'll be like that for two months until I officially become a doctor and then..I don't know." John shrugged, really wanting that not to be a problem.

Sherlock's eyes clouded a bit and he looked away, almost absently reaching to play with Irene's cellphone. "A lot can happen even in one day.." he trailed off. Then Sherlock looked back at John sharply, frown appearing on his forehead, "Jim could use you against me. Or hurt you to get me out of the game."

"Well I'm having army training. I'm not gonna be a weakling forever. I'm not one now. I can handle myself, Sherlock. The game is just between you and Jim. Sherlock, you're just looking for things to go wrong. There's always risks. Life is a risk but we only get one chance. And I want my chance to be with you." He stated clearly, keeping his eyes on the younger.

"You having an army training doesn't change a thing, John." Sherlock pointed out, "Bassy is an ex-soldier as far as I can say so he will know everything you can do to protect yourself as well. _And_ while the Game is indeed in between me and him, Irene is dead. Well, not yet, at least I think so, but soon to be." he frowned slightly, turning the cellphone over and over in his hands.

"You're just looking for things to go wrong. Why can't we just be happy and not worry? If things go wrong, they go wrong but things are ok now.." John sighed, smile dissapearing.

"I am not. Shut up." Sherlock pouted, frowning at him stubbornly. "I am just _thinking_, someone need to do so, since you refuse to."

"Don't tell me to shut up, Sherlock Holmes." John laughed, getting up from his seat, "I do think. I just think you should think a bit less, or at least think about the happier things." He spoke, moving closer to him.

"Don't tell me what to do or not do." Sherlock poked out his tongue without missing a beat. "And I can't _not_ think, idiot." he rolled his eyes and moved so that he was sitting in the very back of the chair, legs hanging over one arm and head rested on the other. Sherlock patted the space next to his side.

"I'll tell you whatever I want to." He smiled, joining Sherlock; laying next to him. His head rested against the arm next to the bundle of curls but his legs couldn't quite reach as far as the younger man's. He smiled, looking over at him. "You're the idiot."

"Silence." Sherlock barked and lightly pushed against his arm, not hard enough to roll him off the chair. He sighed and looked up at the ceiling, trailing his fingers around the screen of the cellphone he was holding against his stomach.

**What are you making for dinner? ;) tW**

John looked up at the cieling, not knowing what to say. He felt a certain calm wash over him, as if Sherlock's being here just relaxed him. So different to his relationship with Sherlock only a month ago. The Sherlock whose head he would simply smash against the wall for pretending to put aphrodisiacs in his drink. A lot can happen in two weeks. He closed his eyes, listening to the silence of the room.

Sherlock jerked when Irene's phone signalled new message with a vibration and snatched it up to see the message. He frowned, wondering if the woman knew he had obtained her phone from Jim, or the message was intended to the criminal. Sherlock added the phone number to the list of ones he had remembered and tapped a response.

**I wonder. Coming over? -**

He left the message intentionally without a signature and waited, absently edging closer to the warmth John radiated.

John opened his eyes sleepily at the sound of the message, "That Jim again?" He asked quietly.

**You cook? That's a surprise. Well, I guess cooking is just science. And you definatley seem to be a man who knows his chemistry. And biology ;) tW**

"Irene." Sherlock breathed out, feeling partly relieved and partly nervous. "I need you to teach me how to cook." he turned towards John, completely serious.

**I know everything, never doubt that. Come at noon. -**

"Oh.." John smiled, "She's still alive the-.. what d'you mean? Cook what?" He turned towards Sherlock, raising an eyebrow. "Why?"

**I'm looking forwards to it ;) -tW**

"I _thought_ she was, since Jim didn't tell me all about his genial plan to get her killed." Sherlock grinned fleetingly. "And she is coming over for a lunch. We need to cook something." he shrugged.

"Oh ok then." John smiled slightly, "Anything you have in mind? There's nothing in the cupboards so I'll pop down the road and get some ingredients. I can make a good cake. Or some jam scones? Unless you're thinking something more proper than just tea and cake?" He asked, running things through in his head, "I'm not a great cook, but I can do microwave meals."

"I have memorized a recipe for pancakes.." Sherlock looked at him hopefully, "Could we try that? Well, we _can_ just order a take out, it doesn't really matter.." he trailed off.

"Pancakes sound good." John nodded with a warm smile. "Pancakes for lunch it is then." He looked at him fondly before moving and getting off of the chair. He stood up, going to the cupboards to check once more, knowing they'd be empty anyways. "Alright then, you know the recipe. What do we need?"

"Milk, flour, eggs, salt, jam. Or anything else you could want to put on. Chocolate or whipped cream or I don't care.." he waved his hand. "Oh, a pan. And bowl.. Not sure there are some.." Sherlock looked thoughtfully towards the kitchen.

"Ok then." He quickly scribbled those down and went to put his jacket on. "Anything else we need from the shops, whilst I'm out?" He asked, smiling slightly.

"No.." Sherlock stared at him in wonder, as if not quite processing what was John doing, "You are really going to do the shopping?" he blinked.

"Well... yeah. How else are we gonna get the ingredients so I can watch you toss pancakes around like a pro?" He laughed gently, putting his shoes on. "You seem.. surprised?"

Sherlock nodded, not bothering to give him an answer. He just hoped he wouldn't end up completely ruining the cooking, since he had never tried. It would be kind of stupid to disappoint John so. "Don't get killed. Or kidnapped."

"I'll try not to." John smiled at him, just realising that there was a high possibility he could easily be killed or kidnapped. But he didn't care. Strangely, he cared more about getting ingredients for Sherlock's bloody pancakes than anything else. "Do I get a kiss for luck?" John grinned, checking the list over again. He really did just mean this as a joke, wanting to see Sherlock's reaction.

Sherlock frowned for a moment, then stood up and nodded. He walked towards John, until he was standing right in front of him. "If you so wish.." he leaned towards him and hesitated for a second, before planting a peck onto John's forehead.

John felt his heart skip a beat and his smile widen before looking up at the taller. "I didn't think you'd actually do that. I was joking. I'm sorry." He laughed slightly, knowing that must have been a little awkward for the other, as it looked as though that was the case. He still wasn't used to this dynamic shift in relationship with Holmes. He knew he was blushing but he didn't care, the smile still stayed on his face. "Ok, I'm going to stop being an idiot and go and do stuff. Yeah." John walked down the stairs quickly. _Well done Watson. That was smooth. Now he knows you're an even bigger idiot than before. Good going, twat._

Sherlock stared after him for a moment, feeling very confused. He just didn't get what John wanted; he had thought the older _wanted_ Sherlock to kiss him. But then - Sherlock sighed and moved to lay on the sofa, hands pushed beneath his chin, and closed his eyes to think.

John really did want Sherlock to kiss him. He wanted Sherlock to kiss him again and again until he couldn't anymore but he thought Sherlock was more detached than that. He really didn't know what to do. His head was everywhere but he managed to get all the equiptment and ingredients needed and managed to calm down.

He returned around 45 minutes later with everything, headed up the stairs of 221-B and walked into the living room. "Hey." He smiled gently before going into the kitchen, "I have all the stuff. Some jam, honey, chocolate, whipped cream and icecream to go ontop."

Sherlock hummed instead of greeting, but the last part of John's sentence caught his attention, "Wait, _ice-cream_?" he moved onto his feet and into the kitchen. "What flavour?"

"Umm.. Quite a few. Strawberry, Chocolate, Vanilla, Honeycomb, Mint, Blueberry and that one which has three mixed in one." He spoke as he put the bags on the side, putting the icrecream in the freezer, listing them off as he put them away. "Did I uh.. go overboard? I just- well Harry said that icecream went well with pancakes and I uhh didn't want to dissapoint." He got the other ingredients out. "I go the pan and other equiptment for later to make other things just incase you wanted to make other stuff one day." He smiled slightly, hoping it wasn't overboard.

Sherlock's eyes lit up and he didn't bother to answer, as he reopened the freezer. He quickly scanned the inside and pulled out the strawberry one, immediately retreating back into the living room. He hummed happily as he stole the tea-spoon from one of the mugs on the table, tasting the frozen sweat with a blessed out grin on his face.

"I'm guessin you're a fan of strawberry icecream then?" John laughed, taking his seat opposite the taller. Sometimes he forgot how much of a little kid Sherlock could be. He got up, going back to the kitchen. John had bought the ingrediants, he thought why not; so began to make cake.

"A bit." Sherlock muffled trough mouthful of ice-cream and quickly swallowed, hoping he didn't have any of it on his face. "Ow." he blinked in surprise and set the ice-cream down, crossing the room into the kitchen. "I think I overdid it a bit.." he whined pitifully, irrationally hoping John would be able to do something to stop his head from hurting.

"Hmm? What's up?" John walked over, forehead and t-shirt already covered in flour. "Oh I see. Brain-freeze. The great Sherlock Holmes, defeated by strawberry frozen dessert." John laughed slightly, "There is no medication or a medical cure for brain-freeze, but.." He kissed Sherlock's forehead gently before wiping a bit of icecream off of Sherlock's cheek. "Just slow down or you'll choke before Jim'll get the chance to do that to you." John smiled, returning to the kitchen.

"You are mean to me." Sherlock scoffed. "Shouldn't you be nice to me?" he trailed after John, tugging at the back of his shirt. "And we will see about Jim killing me. I won't loose." he frowned a bit more.

"I'm not mean!" John laughed, turning around so he was walking backwards but still facing Sherlock. "I know you're gonna win. You're you. With the amazing brilliant mind! Just make sure he doesn't lock you in a room with strawberry ice-cream. The curse of the waffle-cone." John teased, meaning well. "I'm making you and Irene cake, so I think I'm being nice."

Sherlock moved to circle his arms around the older, leaning so that he could press his forehead into John's chest. John was warm. It helped a bit with the pain. "Irene.. what is the time, John?" he muttered into his chest.

"You're getting flour in your hair.." John said softly with a slight smile, looking at his watch. "10:32am. We've got plenty of time to make the pancakes." He laughed slightly, wanting to hug him but knew his hands were covered in flour and butter.

"You are warm, it's helping." Sherlock sighed. "The mixture of separate ingredients is supposed to be done and completed half an hour before I start frying. Miss Adler will be here at noon so I will just start right now.."

"You're gonna have to let go to do that. I wish there was more I could do to help but I'm glad I'm warming you up a bit." He turned around, going back to his mixture, making the batter for the cake. "Don't be putting any aphrodisiacs in anything."

"Now _that_ would be fun." Sherlock chuckled, the pain in his head subsiding a bit. He moved to get a bowl of his own and put it onto the table, having to push away his unfinished experiment to have space. "Though that would be very rude of me and believe me, I am a gentleman. When I want to."

"Oh really..? Now that is something I'd have to see to believe." John laughed, mixing the batter together. "Only joking, I can quite believe it. Not like Mycroft gentleman, he's just a twat." When John finished with the batter, he put it in the new cake tin and in the oven after removing an experiment from there.

"Be careful with the toes.." Sherlock warned, quickly snatching the bowl taken from the oven from John's hands. He moved it onto the windowsill, making a note to pay attention to it later. Right now it was to add the _exact_ amount into the bowl. Sherlock frowned; the recipe didn't state what was to come first. He decided the milk would be easiest and quickly added the rest of ingredients as well.

John leant against the counter, watching Sherlock work with a smile. It was interesting to see him work. He went to the sink quickly to wash the flour away from his face and hands. "Why memorise pancakes out of any food in the world?" He asked, looking back at Sherlock.

"I _like_ pancakes." Sherlock shrugged. "And it was in a magazine I.. well _read_. I only memorized the ingredients, not the whole recipe, though." he narrowed his eyes at the milk, eggs and flour poured into the bowl haphazardly. He reached to get a fork and started stirring, trying to get them to mend into a dough.

"Fair enough." John smiled, "Pancakes can be nice. Dad made brilliant ones as a kid" he shoved his clean hands into his pockets. "What's Irene like?"

Sherlock winced at the question and set the bowl and fork down, deciding he wouldn't be able to do any better anyway, "She is.. she is smart. She is beautiful and uses it to manipulate people. Which reminds me," he narrowed his eyes and looked at the older male, "If you keep on staring her, I will kill you."

"Keep on stari-? I won't stare at her. I don't stare at women. That's creepy. I'll just say hi then let you two do whatever it is you do with your mind games and stuff." John smiled slightly, "You don't share. I know. I want you, remember? Not someone who calls herself The Woman."

"Calling herself 'the Woman' is oddly apropos." Sherlock muttered thoughtfully. He set the timer on John's cellphone to thirty minutes and gave the mixture one last dubious look. It looked.. weird. Completely different from his usual experiments. He had weird itch to add acid or glycerine into the bowl as well, but forced himself not to. "And I think she will want to meet you.." he added with a light frown, looking over at the older male.

"Want to meet me..? Why?" John asked, confused as he began to wash up his equiptment with the cake batter on. "D'you like spongecake? Uhh it'd suck if you didn't since that's what I'm making."

"I don't care. I mostly don't eat anyway." Sherlock rolled his eyes. The last time he remembered eating was when he was having a dinner with Irene. Interesting. "And why shouldn't she?" he blinked at John in confusion.

"Well, I won't be able to keep up with the conversation or anything. I'm not stupid.. but I'm not a genius." He shrugged, looking at the cake's progress. "You don't eat, yet you can scarf down strawberry icecream like there's no tommorow?"

"Ice-cream is not food." he shrugged. "And it's brilliant." he added as an afterthought. "Never underestimate ice-cream. And I don't think the conversation will be any.. intellectual. Miss Adler doesn't work like that.. if that makes any sense."

"I guess so. Strawberry's my favourite too." John smiled, deciding the cake could do with a bit longer. "How does she work then? If not intellectual."  
Sherlock shrugged, "She is.. playful." he snorted at his own explanation, he seriously lacked words to describe Irene. "Why, are you curious?" Sherlock gave John a wide grin.

"Slightly." He smiled, raising his eyebrow. "Well, a stranger who worked for Jim is coming over for pancakes. So yeah, slightly curious." John laughed gently, looking over at the bedroom. "Is Greg still asleep...?"

"No, I killed him." Sherlock rolled his eyes, "And miss Adler never worked _for_ Jim. She merely created a pact with him. They were co-working." he shrugged. "How is your cake doing, by the way..? I don't think it's supposed to smell quite like this.."

"Co-wor-.. Oh bugger!" John quickly grabbed the tea-towel, pulling the cake out of the oven with a pulme of smoke. He coughed as the smoke got into his lungs but quickly closed the oven and put the ashened cake on the side. "Bloody fucking hell." John cursed at the cake before bursting out laughing. "Told you I was a 'great' cook."

"Well.." Sherlock peered at the cake, or what was left of it, over John's shoulder. "I think we will probably end up calling for a take out anyway." he said, voice amused, and circled his arms around John's neck just because he could. "And here I thought at least the _cake_ will be edible."

"Yeah..your pancakes don't umm..really resemble pancakes." John laughed slightly, wrapping his arms around Sherlock's slim waist just because he could. "I never thought the cake would go ok anyways. I think I added salt instead of sugar and there may or may not be three eggs worth of shells in the mix." He admitted with a smile, laughing softly.

Sherlock chuckled as well, finding the whole situation quite hilarious. He invited a woman who had worked with his nemesis over for a lunch, after thinking she might be dead, and couldn't even cook pancakes. "Who knows.. it still _might_ resemble pancakes when I fry it.. the dough is just a bit.. lumpy. Your cake, on the other hand, has no hope whatsoever."

"I could just smother it in icing." John grinned, "No one would know the difference before it was too late and awkward British politeness would mean they'd at least have to pretend to enjoy a slice." He laughed, burying his head into Sherlock's chest slightly. "If it _does_ resemble pancakes, that will be a miracle."

"Want me to do a miracle?" Sherlock grinned and poked John's side, "I quite doubt though that the smell is any easy not to notice.. _Everyone_ in the range of twenty meters from the flat is now aware that you ruined a cake.. Just by taking a breath."

John laughed as the other poked his side, "Go on then, I think I'd quite like to see a miracle." Moving his head away from Sherlock's chest he laughed, looking at the floor. "Yes, I think that everybody and their cat now knows that John Watson cannot make cake."

"_Exactly_." Sherlock chuckled. "I need to wait twenty more minutes, though." he shrugged and moved away from the older. He instantly missed the warmth and sighed, running his hand trough his hair. "I think that by the time I am finished cooking, I will need another shower.. as do you, by the way."

"Yeah, it's been a while." John laughed slightly, "I'll go get one now. After I put this in the bin." He smiled, taking the burnt, failed cake and put it in it's rightful place before leaving to go to the bathroom.

Sherlock nodded, looking thoughtfully after the man. He was _glad_ the mess was finally gone, but it really complicated things. Very much. And he needed to ask John something, as soon as he left the bathroom. Sherlock sighed and went to take care of the toes on the windowsill.

Around 15 minutes later, John came back in. He was all washed and dressed, his hair darker due to being damp still. "Hows the pancakes coming along?" He asked, smiling as he approached Sherlock

"Five minutes and still counting." Sherlock answered absently, his eyes trained on the greenish toe he was holding up against the light. "Now this is fascinating.." he whispered as he turned it over, noticing the skin around the nails being almost purple.

"What's with the toe?" John asked, thinking it wasn't very hygienic to have it in the kitchen but technically this was Sherlock's lab anyways.

John checked his watch, realising they still had time and he doubted Irene would arrive exactly at noon anyways.

"With the toe? Nothing.. Nothing.." Sherlock shook his head and put it back into the bowl with the rest. "I suppose you won't need the oven again, right?" he asked just to be sure and put the bowl quickly inside, careful not to burn himself.

"No no. I don't think I'll be cooking again." John smiled, "I'll stick to take out. Are you going to get a shower then? After making pancakes of course." John leaned against the counter, watching him.

"I have to, don't I, since you successfully got flour all over me." the younger rolled his eyes. He looked at the timer; 2 minutes. He could as well prepare and heat up the pan. "Well, let's see about the miracle.." Sherlock muttered, placing the pan onto the cooker. He poured a bit of oil over and carefully watched it, waiting for it to boil.

John watched Sherlock with interest, "I'm sure you'll be more than capable. Is it even possible to burn pancakes?" He asked, smiling as he watched the flour covered Sherlock. He was slightly anxious about Irene coming over but he knew with Sherlock there he'd be ok.

"Of course it is.." Sherlock muttered and reached to set the bowl of dough onto the cooker as well, to have it at hand. "..As I am sure you will soon see.." he added and ran his hand trough his hair, not really caring that he was getting the dough all over himself again. "How do you see if the oil is heated enough..?"

"I'm sure you'll be fine. It's just pancakes. I can't talk.. it was just cake but I screwed that up." He smiled slightly, going over next to him to look at the pan, "I think when the oil starts sizzling that it's ready.. maybe. Probably." John laughed a little, "Sorry, I'm not being much help." He wiped a bit of dough off of Sherlocks face gently.

"That is actually pretty decent idea." Sherlock grinned, "The only thing I thought about was to stick my finger in. Now.. pancakes.." he looked at the dough for few seconds, before pouring small amount onto the pan. "Looks right for now... It might not be that bad after all.." Sherlock said hopefully, face lit up with fascination.

"That would hurt.." John laughed, watching him with an equally happy face. "You'll do fine. Remember to flip them." He was just happy to see Sherlock being content and fascinated by something that was just.. normal. Not experiments. Just pancakes.

"Easy to say, John. A bit more difficult to do.." Sherlock muttered and lightly poked the dough on the pan, that was slowly turning solid. He reached for the fork and quickly turned the pancake over with the use of the tool and his hand. "Ha. Didn't see that coming, did you." Sherlock poked his tongue at John.

John grinned, surprised, and laughed at Sherlock's reaction. "No, no I didn't. You are a man of surprises. But I bet I can flip them better. I did a two flip flip one year on pancake day. My mum could do 3 though." He smiled sadly, watching the pan.

"Well, show me you expert." Sherlock stepped back from the oven and gesticulated for John to take over. "Just for you to know, though, I consider this my great achievrment. I didn't cook anything before, if you don't count tea. And I burnt my hand the last time I tried.. but that's beside the point."

"Alright then." John laughed, "I do think that your pancake there is a great achievement. I'm proud of you, Holmes." He smiled before taking the pan and taking a breath, flipping the pancake into the air and it flipped over twice, landing perfectly in the pan with a satisfying sizzle. John laughed. "Haha! That's how it's done!"

"Well then, do continue on." Sherlock smirked. "And I am going to take a shower." he said teasingly and leaned to peck John's temple, trying his hardest not to look too smug. He backed out of the kitchen before John could say anything and locked himself in the bathroom.

John's blush flushed freely as he smiled, finishing that pancake and starting another. He laughed to himself happily as he got to work on the others, enjoying flipping the pancakes and the nostalgia it brought about.  
Sherlock emerged from the bathroom twenty minutes later and dripping wet, towel hanging limply over his head. He pulled his clothes back on rather haphazardly and made his way back into the kitchen. "How is it going, then?" he stifled a yawn and leaned against the kitchen counter.

"All done" John smiled, showing him the pile of pancakes on the plate, resting on the counter. "Whatcha think? Flipped on three times in the air! It's uh.. still on the ceiling." He laughed. "How long until Irene gets here?"

Sherlock raised his eyes towards the ceiling, grinning. "Oh. You missed the green slime. Too bad, could have looked bad-ass." he shrugged. Sherlock flicked his eyes from the plate to John, eyebrows raised, "Why do you know how to cook anyway? You are a _man_!" he exclaimed.

"Oh don't be so victorian, Sherlock! I know how to cook because of school. Didn't you ever have Food Technology? Everyone had to take it year 7-9. Then when we had to take a tech, some people took cooking. I didn't. I took Graphic design just because I liked woodwork." He shrugged. "I can cook basic stuff."

"I didn't take the class. At least I think I didn't.." Sherlock mulled it over thoughtfully. "Well, doesn't matter. I have a question. Two questions. _Pay attention_." he barked and laid his hands onto John's shoulders, forcing him to stay facing towards him. "First question; what the _hell_ is 'vashta nerada'? I can't get it out of my head.."

John was quite surprised by Sherlock grabbing his shoulders but listened to his question carefully. He listened, but laughed afterwards. "Vashta Nerada? Isn't that off uhh...Doctor Who or something! Yeah, Rich watched it religiously every Saturday. The skeleton people in the library. Count the shadows." He added, warningly with a laugh.

"Oh!" Sherlock quickly turned around and back to face the older once again. "Movie reference, should have known. Just couldn't place it." he explained a bit sheepishly, "Second question. _What_ did you hear yesterday evening? I know you did something, you said so, and I know as well that I didn't bother keeping silent when me and Jim talked. What did you hear?"

"Yesterday evening..?" John said, smile fading slightly. "I heard that Moriarty was your pet..your sex slave and apart from hearing you two having very loud sex, not much else. Was..that yesterday evening? Or was the whole, Jim being almost killed yesterday evening?" John had gotten his track of time lost, everything with Sherlock went by in a flash.

"Not _that_." Sherlock rolled his eyes and just leaned closer, staring into John's eyes intently, "Did you hear us _talk_ about anything? Not counting the sex-slave part, that was just to mess with Lestrade." he waved it off.

John blushed at how intently Sherlock was staring at him, but stared just as intently back at him. "If you did, It must have been too quiet for me or I forgot it. I was kinda drowsy at the time. All I heard was you and Jim having sex." He spoke clearly, raising an eyebrow, "Why? Was there something you said I wasn't supposed to hear?"

Sherlock sighed in relief and moved away from the older. He crossed the room and stepped into the living room, trying to make some order of the things haphazardly stashed all over every available surface. "Not _you_. Just most of the things I said was meant for Jim's ears only. And as I thought both you and Lestrade were asleep, I didn't lower my voice. He didn't either. You didn't hear anything. That's good. Good."

"Alright then." John nodded, putting the cooking stuff away, "Can I ask a question, though?" John spoke as he followed Sherlock into the living room. "Why _did_ you and Jim have sex anyways? Is it to do with your game..? Or uhh just because you could? Kinda seemed like positive reinforcement for kidnapping."

"That's.. difficult.." Sherlock looked up from his attempt on cleaning, "Probably because I could. Yes. That's the easiest way how to put it." he nodded to himself and took the skull into his hands, he wondered if he should hide it or leave it. Well, miss Adler probably won't be shocked by that; she was smart. "I needed to get him away from any other's ears. To talk to him. And it just went from there.." Sherlock shrugged, looking straight at the skull.

"Alright. Did..did you _want_ to? Like, if you had your choice, you'd have sex again with him? If you just could?" John asked, sitting down as he watched Sherlock.

Sherlock stilled for a moment, just looking at John. "Oh! You want me to say no." he noted. "I don't know, though. Might. It's one of few things that can make me feel alive. And warm." the younger shrugged.

John shook his head, "No, I didn't want you to say no. I wanted you to say the honest answer. And you did. Thanks." He gave a slight smile before picking up the newspaper that was on the side.

"Really, now..." Sherlock narrowed his eyes, keeping them on John still. "That's a bit of a disappointment, actually." he added thoughtfully, before he gave a shrug and turned back to his mess-reducing activities. "What is the time?"

"Dissapointment..? How?" John asked before checking his watch, "11:17." His eyes seemed to return to the paper but in reality he was just watching the younger.

"Ah. So we still have almost hour. That's good.." Sherlock picked up the burned cloth - a artefact of an experiment gone wrong - and threw it to the trash bin. "What do you say, looks clean now?" he looked hopefully at the older.

John looked up from the paper, looking around the room. "Yeah, it looks clean enough. Not _Jim_ kind of clean but clean nonetheless." He smiled, "Good job."

"Thank you very much." Sherlock grinned. He stepped across the low table and snatched the newspapers from Johns hands, throwing it away. "I am bored." he announced, looking down at John as if it was his fault.

"Hey. I was reading that." John complained, looking up at Sherlock with a raised eyebrow. "Well do something about it then. Can't you find something to entertain yourself with for an hour until Irene gets here? Everyone gets bored. I'm bored, but you don't seem me complaining." John frowned at the way Sherlock was looking at him as if it was hia fault, "What's that look for?"

"_Why_ don't you mind I slept with Jim?" Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the male for few seconds, "I thought you would." he sighed, before he quickly waved it off, moving to snatch John's papers and sit down with them into his chair. "Well, forget it. What is the time?"

"I do mind. Very much, infact but I'm being civil about it. Makes me jealous. I didn't want to inflate your ego, but there." He crossed his arms, looking at the other. "5 minutes since you last asked me, Sherlock."

Sherlock looked at him over the papers, giving the older a blinding smile. "Good." he looked back down at the papers and quickly scanned the articles. "Boring.." he murmured to himself and took one list from the newspaper, letting the rest fall to his feet. Sherlock folded it once and again, trying to remember how to do origami.

"Good? How's that good?" John got up, snatching the paper out of Sherlock's hands like how the younger had done to him.

"Give it back. I was playing!" Sherlock scoffed at John and reached forwards, trying to snatch the folded paper back.

John held it high, out of the sitting Sherlock's grasp. "You were _playing_?"

"Yes. I was trying to make an origami." Sherlock rolled his eyes. He reached his legs and tugged onto John's knees, forcing him to fall forwards.

John fell forwards, half landing on Sherlock but held onto the paper. "Now you're being the mean one, Sherlock!" He tried to frown but just laughed.

"Only _now_?" Sherlock grinned. "I am always mean. I have it written in my curriculum vitae." he poked his tongue out at the older. "_You_ are the one who should be nice."

"If you keep sticking that thing out, I'll get your scalpal and cut it off." John laughed, putting his arms around the other, "And why should _I_ be nice?"

"You are older. You are supposed to take care of me and spoil me." Sherlock repeated the rude gesture. "And I _need_ my tongue. There is plenty of things I can use it for." he smirked.

"I bet there are." He teased, raising an eyebrow, "I'm older but you're smarter." John countered, "You want me to take care of you and spoil you? I've done loads. I made your sodding pancakes." He laughed.

"_I_ made the dough." Sherlock pointed out. "It was a teamwork. And of course I am smarter. It's not that difficult to be smarter." he rolled his eyes, but there was no fire behind that. Sherlock gave John a smile and rested his head onto his shoulder.

"Hey, I think you'll find my grades were pretty good. I'm better at medicine than you. I'm better at being a doctor than you and I'm not even one yet." He stuck his own tounge out. "There are a few good things I'm better than you at. But yeah, you're smarter than me. Y'gotta give me credit though."

Sherlock shrugged, "I couldn't be a doctor. I hate blood. Well, I don't mind if it's mine. But other people's.. ew.." he made a face. "And I never said I am _better_, I said I am smarter." the younger pointed out.

"See, there's where you and Moriarty are different." John smiled slightly, " I know you're not better. I know." He smirked, running his hand through Sherlock's curls.

"Are we?" Sherlock raised his eyebrows, "Do you know how sometimes when you hate something so much.. you just can't look away, no matter how scared you are?" he smiled a bit. "I wouldn't be able to stop looking if I saw someone bleed.."

"Yeah, I get that. Like when you're paralysed with fear or something? That happens to me and car crashes. I'm useless, I just sit and stare. I really couldn't work on an ambulance. God knows how I'm gonna do with trauma on the field. Guess I'll learn." He smiled, enjoying the feeling of running his hand through Sherlocks' hair so used his other hand too, fascinated by it.

"Paralysed, fascinated, captivated. Call it what you want." Sherlock shrugged. He leaned his head forward, resting his forehead to John's shoulder. "I tried to comb my hair, you know.. You are going to make it a mess again." he sighed, though he didn't protest or move away. "What is the time anyway?"

"Want me to straighten it one day?" He laughed slightly, "Add a bit of eyeliner.. you'd look like me in secondary school. Yes, I was one of the emo kids. So was Rich." John smiled, resting his head on Sherlock's opposite shoulder. "Half past."

"The worst is; I can really imagine Jim being all emo and mournful." Sherlock couldn't quite help the chuckles that shook trough his body. "Do you have any pictures? I promised him I would use his poster to stick it over my mirror.."

John laughed, "Yeah on my old _Myspace _believe it or not. When people actually _used _myspace." He grinned, going onto his phone, pulling away from Sherlock, sitting on his lap instead. He searched through, remembering his old password and went onto his page. "God.. I haven't used this in ages.." He looked through the pictures and burst out laughing, bringing up a folder of a younger looking Richard and John, both with quite long black hair, liprings and make up. "I used to think we looked so cool." John handed the phone to Sherlock.

Sherlock reached to take the device, grinning as he flicked trough the folder. He chose one where was Jim alone and looking particularly mournful and sent it via bluetooth to Irene's cellphone. "I am stealing that one. Hope you don't mind." Sherlock looked up to give John a smirk. He handed John's phone back to him and instead snatched Irene's, sending the picture to Jim's number with a message,

**Charming. ;) -SH**

"Not at all." John laughed, resting his head back onto Sherlock's shoulder. "We looked so badass, didn't we?" He grinned, closing his eyes as he felt so warm and comfortable up close to Sherlock.

**Oh my god. How did you find that? :D -JM**

Sherlock absently circled his arms around the older, staring at the phone screen over John's shoulder. "Very. Had I met you in a dark isle, I would run. Fast."

**Do try to guess. -SH**

"We would have probably drank your blood or something." He grinned, sighing gently.

**Hmm.. the internet? I bet there are many pictures of Richard Brooke floating around. He was a camerawhore. -JM**

**Obviously I have nothing better to do than browse the net in search of your alias. Please, notice the sarcasm. -SH**

"Now _that_ would be gross.." Sherlock shuddered in disgust. "Should I carry a silver cross with me from now on?"

John laughed, "We used to pretend to be vampires. Not anymore though, don't worry." He smiled, "It sounds so so gross. Girl in my class honestly did drink blood though. Jim dated her. _Briefly._"

**Ah. John then. Nice to see you too being all cutesy. I'd love to see one of your pics ;) -JM**

"Really.." Sherlock made a face. "And here I thought he was _smart_." he rolled his eyes. "Must have been too early for his brain to start functioning."

**And here I thought vampires weren't supposed to be seen on photos :)) -SH**

"Or he was just being very clever with the alias." He shrugged slightly, finding himself almost dozing off so pulled his head from his shoulder, looking at him. "What's the time now?"

**Magic camera. -JM**

**Too bad you didn't bite me; would have liked to have all eternity to kick your ass. -SH**

"Eleven forty." Sherlock checked the time. "Well he _was_ very clever with the alias." he shrugged, "He created completely new person and managed to stick to the persona every time there was someone to see."

"So clever. I mean, I never saw his parents since he lived with his Grandma. His parents were dead I think? Or something. I fell for it. I don't think even you would have seen through it when he was at school." John smiled, "20 minutes then." He nodded, resting back into the other.

**I believe I bit you plenty of times. Have the marks faded already? Shame. -JM**

**Did you, now? I never noticed. -SH**

Sherlock reached his hand to his neck in wonder, hesitantly running his fingers over the skin. He found few sore spots and blinked.

**You are right! I should have looked in a mirror when I took shower.. hm.. -SH**

"Twenty minutes, yes.." Sherlock grinned at the older. "Have you ever met his grandmother, by the way?"

"More than a few times. She was nice." He commented, "Maybe an actor, maybe his actual grandma. Who knows?" He smiled sleepily; he just felt so calm being so warm and close to him, like the night he was ill and Sherlock was there to make him keep the cover on. The sound of Sherlock's breathing was quite soothing, knowing he was alive and here. He watched Sherlock's hands, seeing the marks. "Looks like Jim left an impression.." He muttered.

**They're still there? good good. Please inform me when they leave, I can renew your prescription. -JM**

"Obviously.." Sherlock mumbled, feeling quite self-conscious for once. "I didn't notice until he told me.. I have been walking like this whole day." he sighed. "And don't you dare fall asleep!" the younger barked suddenly and poked John's side, in hopes of shocking him awake.

**No thank you. Go make kissy faces at your pet :) -SH**

"I'm not, I'm not!" John yelled back, despite the almost vacent sleepy expression etched onto his face. "I didn't notice either though.. Irene will." He yawned slightly. "You're comfy."

**I would, but he's not here. I haven't seen him all day and he's not replying to any messages. JM**

"Yes you were." Sherlock grinned. "Of course miss Adler will, she notices everything. Though she might just assume it was you who gave them to me, if we play it right." he gave John a smug look.

**Feeling lonely? Aw... want to come over for a lunch? That would be like cabaret! -SH**

**A cabaret? How so? JM**

"Play it right..? She will not believe that. I mean, we haven't even y'know..." John said rather uncomfortabley. "Um..d'you want tea?" He asked, checking his watch and wanting to change the subject.

"We haven't even _what_?" Sherlock asked with barely hidden amusement, "Had sex? Yes we did." he grinned. "Now, sit still, I am working on playing it right." the younger leaned over to John and lightly bit into the crook of his neck, careful to leave an angry-red mark when he leaned back.

**That is for me to enjoy and for you to never know. :) -SH**

"Well yeah..but I can't remember a single second of i- h-hey what are you d-?" He flushed, looking at Sherlock with a surprised yet annoyed expression, holding onto his neck when Sherlock pulled away. "What was that for?!"

"I told you I am working on playing it right." Sherlock smirked smugly. He tugged John's hand away just to be sure the mark was visible enough. It was. "And you _really _don't remember it? That hurts, honestly." Sherlock chuckled.

"Well, I was absolutley mortal, wasn't I? I was plastered, of course I don't remember it..I..I'd have liked to. Can't change that now though, can I?" John looked at his watch again, sighing.

"That just doesn't add, John.." the younger frowned. "Some time ago, you said you remembered it.. I had to try so hard to make you believe it was a dream.." Sherlock turned to look at him, as if trying to see straight into his mind. "I mean.. _how_ did you forget?"

"Ok, I remember a little. But honestly, not that much. I mean..my memory is blurry on that one. At the time, I guess quite vivid but it's like..the more I think about it, the more I forget." He shrugged, looking away, slightly embaressed by his intense look.

Sherlock tried to continue on with staring at him, completely serious, but couldn't quite help it when he started shaking with mirth. "Oh that's gold. Really. That's brilliant." he exclaimed, grinning widely.

"What?" John finally looked at him, cheeks pink. "What's gold?" He crossed his arms, looking at him slightly annoyed, more embaressed.

"You. Of course. Always you." Sherlock just grinned more widely. He raised his hand to trace John's darkened cheeks with the tips of his fingers. "What is the time?"

"Shut up.." John laughed slightly, feeling his cheeks flush hot. John checked his watch quickly, "11:57." He put his wrist down but still refused to look at Sherlock.

"Three minutes." Sherlock breathed out in excitement. "Come on, smile a little," he poked John's ribs and once again, trying to make the older look at him. "It's fun. You will meet Jim's left hand. The Woman. A right lady. Who enjoys killing, black-mailing and lying!"

"She sounds absolutley delightful, Sherlock." He rolled his eyes yet couldn't help but smile a tiny bit. "As long as she doesn't kidnap me and torture me, she's a vast improvement from Jim." John looked at Sherlock finally, "The Woman hmm? I hope she likes pancakes."

"We had spaghetti last time.." Sherlock shrugged, "This will be.. very homey." he added, sheepishly scratching his chin. "Though we can always order some take out if she doesn't."

"Maybe she'll like it? Being all more intimate and personal and stuff?" John shrugged, he didn't know her at all.

"Who knows." the younger grinned. "Not that she has any choice. We can't really take her out into a restaurant when the head of all criminals wants her dead."

"Surely Jim has people watching this place?" John got up, going to the window. "Look! There's a guy stood there watching the door."

Sherlock almost whined when John left, taking his warmth with him, "Let him watch then. Jim doesn't trust his people; surely have you noticed that he didn't have anyone guarding him or his place, aside from Bassy." he pointed out.

"Yeah, but if Irene comes over, kinda likely that he's there to kill her..." John frowned. "Or it's an organisation guy waiting to kill her. Whoever it is..looks impatient." He moved away, looking at his watch. "12:01."

"Your little fanclub has no reason to kill her. And I don't think Irene would let herself get killed so easily." Sherlock grinned, "She is very smart. Hopefully, she is smart enough as well."

"Don't have to be stupid to be killed.." He spoke, sitting back down. "So, I guess we just wait..?" He asked, honestly not knowing what to do.

"You can go tell Lestrade that one of the rats ran away." Sherlock shrugged, "That might be quite amusing. Aside from that, yes. We wait. Or you can come here and let me play." he added with a grin.

"I think option 3 sounds interesting." John smiled, walking over to him. "Though I'm not sure of what you mean.." He laughed, "We could play dominos.. chess.. violin?"

Sherlock reached and tugged him to sit on the edge of the chair, moving so that both of them could sit next to each other. "Not enough time, miss Adler should be here soon. She is usually sharp." he reached his hand to John's hair and tugged his head back, biting down onto the side of his neck to leave second mark.

John was surprised, he complied however with sitting beside him. He gave a small gasp and being tugged and bitten, despite secretely not minding. "Hey! Are you just using Irene as an excuse to abuse me?" He frowned at the other before laughing, "Surely she isn't that thorough."

"I was bored." Sherlock shrugged, not looking sorry in the least. "And someone must do the 'abusing' if you are going to be all shy on me." he poked the older man, leaning against the arm, and gave him a smug look.

"I'm not all shy!" John sulked, though smiling. "You're a lunatic. So you justify abusing me with boredom?" He rested his head on Sherlock's shoulder. "Maybe that's why I like you... Who knows."

**I'm at the door. IA**

"I justify about everything with boredom. It works." Sherlock smirked. "Oh, miss Adler is here.. or somewhere completely different. Depends on who she thinks has her phone."

**Come in. -**

"Hmm? She is?" John looked over at the door, sitting up properly.

The heavy footsteps of Sebastian Moran ascended the staircase, slipping the phone into his jacket pocket and pulling the gun from the holster. He stepped into the room, a small smile on his rugged features. "Afternoon."


	31. Chapter 31

Sherlock ran his eyes up and down the man, before he threw his head back and laughed. It took him almost minute to calm down from the fit of laughter, but he finally managed and distangled himself from John to stand up. "Good afternoon. I must say you are very good at impersonating women; years of practise?" he raised his eyebrow at the male, eyes amused, yet cold and steely.

John's eyes went wide, he stayed still. He was stil terrified of the man and went into a slight shock, watching Sherlock carefully.

"Whatever. Or maybe I just have one tied up and beaten in the trunk of my car. Who knows." He spoke without any sense of humour but it being rough yet soothing at the same time. "So, I have to kill John now. Sorry about the mess, I'll try and keep it clean. James is a fickle guy. He wants things to happen straight away, especially when he's bored. He said nothing changing so he wants radical action to be taken to force change." Sebastian shrugged, simply aiming the pistol at the sitting man. "If I had my way, I'd kill you too Holmes but James is very sentimental over his pet."

"Ah." Sherlock breathed out and closed his eyes for few seconds. "You know, this is very, so very messy.. I am afraid you can't just kill John, you see.." he sighed and stepped in between the two men. "If only for the fact.. that if you kill _him_, I will have to kill myself and that would be such a horrible thing to say to _James_.. especially if he is bored.." Sherlock sighed again, giving of a confused vibe. "So now I really don't know what to do.. Hm.. that's a first.. No no, make it second."

"And why would you have to kill yourself?" Sebastian kept the gun steady on John. "Surely you can go and find another pet to bark alongside your heel? Just go to the pound, that's where you found this one right?" He smirked, turning the saftey off, keeping his finger on the trigger.

"Just to make things a bit more interesting." Sherlock waved it off carelessly, though he went trough small panic attack in his mind. He absently scratched his back, cursing inwardly when he noticed his gun missing. He must have dropped it. Probably on the armchair. "But really, no matter the reason. I just would." he shrugged, trying to think of a way to get to his gun without Moran noticing.

"Make things interesting? That won't make things interesting for you; you'd be dead. James would go on a psycopathic rampage. Like a toddler with a billion pounds and a criminal organisation."

Meanwhile, through Sherlock and Sebastian's exchanges, Irene's quiet footsteps made her way up the staircase of 221-B. She was in the doorway , behind Sebastian but clearly visible to Sherlock. She held her own gun, aiming it at Sebastian's back.

"Exactly. That _would_ be quite interesting. Thankfully I would be way out of Jim's reach by that time, so his little tantrum won't hurt me. Can't say the same about you, though." Sherlock raised his eyebrows, keeping his eyes on the armed man still. He was careful not to alert Moran to Irene's presence, not relaxing one bit either.

"Yeah. You'd be dead." Sebastian scoffed, "Now, I've got something to do. On my way right after."

Just as Sebastian pulled the trigger, Irene shot him behind his knee, causing him to misfire and hit the chair instead of John. She kicked him in the head, taking his gun from him. "I think this is where you leave, Bassy." She smirked, standing on him as she walked past. "Go on. Shoo."

"Nice show, miss Adler. Lunch will be in five minutes, feel free to use the restroom if you so need." Sherlock grinned even as he twirled around, inspecting the bullet hole in the chair. He sighed in relief and looked up at John's face, giving him a tight smile, "How are we feeling?" he cooed at the older male, hoping to get at least _some_ reaction.

"A..alive." He looked up at Sherlock, giving him a small smile and laugh.

"What's for lunch?" Irene asked with a smile, "And thanks for inviting me. You've really outdone yourself."

"Pancakes." Sherlock shrugged. He ran light finger over John's jaw, quite lost in the older man's eyes for a moment, before he shook himself and stepped away. Sherlock turned to face Irene again and raised his hand, palm up. "I would take Bassy's gun, if you don't mind."

John's eyes were trained on Sherlock, watching him as the older did also.

"Of course." Irene smiled, handing over Sebastian's gun to him. "The whole afternoon won't just be you two having eye-sex, right?"

Sherlock chuckled and tugged the gun to rest against his lower back, careful to flick the safety on before he did so. "Of course not. We will abandon the eye-part quite soon." he smirked. "Now, pancakes." he muttered and skipped into the kitchen, putting on the kettle to make tea.

"Oh will you?" Irene laughed, sitting next to John.

"D'you want help in there Sherlock?" John called after him.

Irene's eyes trailed over John, who was doing his best to not look at Irene and her generously short dress. "Looks like you two have been at it then, never thought he'd a biter."

"You'd be suprised.."

"Nooo." Sherlock called back, still grinning. He poured the water into three cups and balanced those in his hands, as he moved into the living room. His eyes narrowed lightly as he took in the two occupants, Irene sitting a bit too close to John for his liking. "Though you might want to tell me what did you intend on the pancakes again. I stopped listening after you said 'ice-cream'." Sherlock muttered sheepishly and leaned down to set the cups onto the low table.

"Unm..I bought syrup, honey, jam, chocolate, strawberries and cream." He smiled slightly, picking up a glass and drinking quickly, Irene leaned closer to John after noticing Sherlock's discomfort on it.

"Wow, you really have outdone yourself on this one." Irene laughed gently, looking at Sherlock

"John cooked." Sherlock scoffed at her, knowing exactly what she was up to. "Second question, John, _where_ did you put it?" he raised his eyebrows when he poked his head trough the doorway, chocolate and strawberry ice-cream balanced in his hands this time, together with two knives and a spoon. He quickly set it down on the table, next to the plate of pancakes.

"In the cupboards..and fridge." John commented, putting the glass of water down.

"Oh really?" She raised an eyebrow, looking at John. "Well aren't you full if surprises? I see why he keeps you." Irene looked between the two of them.

"Can everyone stop reffering to me as some sort of dog?" John spoke up, annoyed.

"No." Sherlock scoffed at John's question, though he kept on glaring at Irene. "As much as I appreciate you saving John's life - _stop it_." he hissed at her, eyes narrowed. He left the living room for few seconds, coming back with honey and cream. "Couldn't find the rest."

"Stop what?" She raised an eyebrow playfully at him. "Am I making you jealous?" Irene looked back at John, "My face is here, John." She smirked as he quickly jolted his head to seem interested in his hands as if he had just discovered them.

Irene looked at the table, quite surprised. "So what are we going to do with the awful mess on the carpet?" She asked, looking at Sebastian who was struggling to get up.

"I thought he would leave." Sherlock mumbled softly, looking at the man. He was quite glad to have something to take his mind off Irene's idea of joke, so he stepped to kneel next to the man and tugged him up, supporting his weigh. "So, . You can either leave.. or I can call Jim to come pick you up, or you can stay for lunch." he piped up, swaying a bit as he tried to hold the man upwards.

"I need to go back. I can manage." He stood up, pushing Sherlock away. "Just get off." Sebastian growled, limping out.

"Awwh. Look at his dejected little face. My heart breaks for him. It really does. Jim'll fix him up." Irene smirked, checking her water before sipping it.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and kicked the door closed after the man and moved to sit on the couch with his legs crossed. He fished Irene's old cellphone from his pocket and sent a quick message to Jim, before looking up at the woman. "I will keep this, if you don't mind. I couldn't help but notice you acquired a new one."

**Your pet on the way home. Next time give him a muzzle; wouldn't want to have to put him to sleep. -SH**

"Not a problem." Irene replied, putting the cup down gently. "I got a good one this time. I'd die before I'd let anyone have it." She smiled before tapping John's head. "Eyes front, soldier." She laughed at John's slightly flushed face which looked at the floor.

"I'm going to go check on Greg." John spoke, standing up and leaving quickly.

"He is asleep. What is the point in checking on him?" Sherlock frowned after him, but shrugged when the older disappeared from his view. He turned to scowl at Irene, "Having fun there? And people tell _me_ I am acting childish.. really.."

"Oh, I'm having a lot of fun." Irene smiled, "Your reactions are priceless. Pure gold. You're positively green right now, Sherlock. It's a sexy colour on you." She took another sip of water. "Are those lovebites, Sherlock Holmes?" Irene looked at the other's neck curiously.

"Oh surely _you_ can positively recognize a bite, can't you, miss Adler." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Why don't you eat, though? I thought the main purpose of your visit was the lunch."

"The main purpose of my visit was to see you, Sherlock. But this seems like a vast improvement from the resturant. Far more.. homely." She smiled, her voice low and teasing. "If you pardon the pun."

"You are pardoned, of course." the young man rolled his eyes, "Though if you wanted to see me, I could have just sent you my picture." he teased back, small grin appearing on his face. "No need to travel trough London, that must have been such a waste of your precious time."

"Seeing you is never waste of my time, dear. Believe me." She laughed, "I haven't scared off your boyfriend have I? _Is_ he your boyfriend? What's the whole setup."

"Not even _I_ am sure about that one, miss Adler." Sherlock chuckled lightly. "And seeing that he went to 'check on' a sleeping person five minutes ago and have yet to come back, then yes, you have scared him off."

"You're not sure? How is that possible?" Irene commented before laughing. "Be a dear and bring him back. He's adorable." She smirked, using a fork to cut up a bit of pancake and tried it. "Not bad."

"Weirder things happened than me not being sure, miss Adler. For example the incident in Bourgeois when it rained fish." Sherlock smirked. "And bring him yourself if you want to.. play. If he wants to hide from you, I can't really blame him. You are rather overwhelming presence."

"Maybe he's never had a strong female figure in his life?" She laughed, "very well then. I'll get him myself." Irene stood up and walked over to the bedroom where John was, circling her arms around his waist. "Mr Watson..it's rude to leave your guest." She toyed in his ear, laughing slightly. "I'm missing your prescense."

John jolted away from her quickly, looking slightly derugged. "R-right. Of course. Sorry." He cleared his throat, walking back to the living toom, cheeks red. "Greg's ok."

"Obviously, since he is _asleep_." Sherlock rolled his eyes, but gave the man tight smile when he got back into the living room, patting the couch next to him for John to sit down. "Miss Adler. I may have a question you might be able to help me with." he raised his eyes towards the woman.

John nodded, quickly sitting down next to Sherlock and feeling very weary of the woman.

"Oh? Do go ahead then." She smiled, sitting down.

"Yes. You see, Bassy there came to kill John, yet, Jimmy himself wasn't aware of that action. Judging by your previous interactions with those two morons, what do you think could Bassy get from killing John?" Sherlock titled his head sideways, watching her carefully.

"Hmm.." She said thoughtfully. "Well, weren't you listening? You already know. Radical change. He wanted to kill John to make his little fanclub react, see what they would do. He's more interested in the third party than Jimmy. " Irene sipped her water. "Well, that's what I percieved. He misses action. He wants a war and this one isn't doing enough for him."

"Very well." Sherlock nodded in acknowledgement. "From what I gathered, he was sent home from war. And I guess it was without honours, else he wouldn't work for Jim." Sherlock tapped his fingers against his knee in thoughts, "How are the pancakes, miss Adler?"

"Seems consitant." She nodded before trying the pancake again. "Its very good, thank you," Irene laughed slightly, "You're very good. I'll have to cook for you two next time."

Sherlock turned to grin at John, noticing the older male was still surprisingly silent. "I am not sure there would be any 'next time', miss Adler." he commented in amusement, "You seem to have scared my.. friend here." he hesitated, really quite not sure what was John's relation to him anymore.

"Huh? I'm not scared." John gave Sherlock a quite confused and offended look at 'friend.' "No no, I'm just letting you two at it." He shrugged, getting a spoon to have some of the strawberry icecream.

"Riight. Whatever you say dear." Irene laughed slightly.

"You are being awfully silent, John." Sherlock added with a light smile. He got a grip of John's wrist and manoeuvred spoon-full of the ice-cream into his own mouth, giving the older male a smug grin.

John tried to give the other a disgruntled look but simply laughed instead. "What's happened to the use of your own hands?" He tapped the spoon on Sherlock's nose. "Need me to make aeroplane noises?"

"Oh John, for god's sake, we've got a guest." the younger smirked, before he leaned comfortably into the couch, turning to look back at Irene. He contemplated her for a moment, then sighed. "So, miss Adler, I gathered our favourite criminal is not very happy with you."

Irene watched them, amused. "You two are definitely screwing.." She commented before listening to the curly haired man. "That's a little bit of an understatement. He is not happy with me at all. I'm on his hit list apparently. I have to take extra precautions, just getting here was difficult."

"I am not sure if you know, but your situation.. _might_ be my fault." Sherlock scratched his chin sheepishly. "But anyway, be smart and leave England." he frowned fleetingly, "Go visit the States or something. And as for the first part of your statement; I am going to completely ignore it."

"Yes..well that doesn't matter anyways. This is just my last goodbye to you for a good while." Irene spoke, standing up. "My business is being set up in Los Angeles as we speak." She smiled softly. "Thank you for lunch, it was nice to meet you John."

"Good luck then, miss Adler." Sherlock stood up as well, "Feel free to visit any time you want." he grinned and reached for her hand, pressing light kiss to the back of her palm. "Good bye."

She smiled happily, "Good luck to you too Mr Holmes." Irene pulled her hand away before picking up her coat and leaving the room.

John finally let out a sigh with a slight smile, "That was interesting." He commented when she left, rubbing the mark on his neck.

"Yes. Very.." Sherlock muttered absently, for a moment staring at nothing at all as he tried to process the information he had acquired. He sighed and turned sharply around, looking at John, "Well? Aren't you going to eat?"

"Hmm?" John looked back at him, half distracted, "Oh yeah, sure." He got himself a plate and a pancake, putting some icecream on it, "And you?" John took a forkfull into his mouth and smiled, "Really good."

"Complimenting yourself, doctor Watson?" Sherlock teased and sat down next to him, making himself comfortable with his knees to his chest. "And no. I am not hungry.."

"Your batter remember. At least it went better than my cake." He laughed slightly, finishing the plate and putting it down. "I think I bought way too much icecream. Maybe Greg'll have it. Or Mycroft." He joked, looking at the man next to him. "Brainfreeze.." John moaned, frowning.

"And you poked fun of me.. and there is never 'too much' ice-cream." Sherlock scoffed, snatching the rest of the strawberry one from the table. He took a deep breath to add something, when two light knocks on the door interrupted him. Sherlock reached to aim his gun at the door. "Come in."

"Oh surely that is not necessary." In stepped young girl with long brown hair, staring intently at the cellphone in her hands. "I overheard you saying something about Mr. Holmes and ice-cream." she looked up from the screen, grinning.

John's frown dissapeared as he stared at the girl, realising he was staring then looked at Sherlock quickly as if he knew who she was. He looked back at the girl, completely forgetting about the brain-freeze. "Uhh Hey." He smiled at her when she finally looked up from the screen.

"Mr. Holmes is sending his regards, Mr. Holmes." She took few small steps into the room and handed a package to Sherlock.

"Thank you very much. Eh..- who are you today?" Sherlock raised his eyebrows at her and laid the package next to himself onto the couch. "Also, how bugged is the phone?"

"On scale from one to ten.." she pretended to think about it, "I would say twelve. About the name.. what about.." she tapped her chin thoughtfully, "Oh, Erica. Yes."

John took a while to try and understand what was going on, but things slowly clicked into place. "I'm uhh.. guessing you're working for Mycroft, uhh Erica?"

"..Yeah." Erica gave him a look, before she turned to look back at her screen. "I will be going again. Do you want me to bring Mr. Holmes the ice-cream, Mr. Holmes?" she grinned up at Sherlock.

"No." the young male rolled his eyes and pressed the box of ice-cream to his chest. "I don't share. And most of all not with my brother. Shoo, shooo. Run away."

She gave them both a nod and left the room.

John laughed at how childish Sherlock was being with the icecream. "If you hug it like that, it'll melt and go everywhere and be sticky and gross and stuff. I'll clean up all this stuff." He smiled as he stood up, collecting the plates and things that were to have gone on pancakes.

"Have to hug ice-cream when you keep on staring at women." Sherlock muttered more to himself and rolled his eyes. He reached to snatch a spoon before John could put it away.

"I don't keep on staring at women! You just get paranoid. If I would have my way, Sherlock Holmes; I'd stare at you all the time! But that would be uncomfortable, surely? I have eyes, they look at loads of things! are you gonna get jealous for me looking at this plate?" He asked, slight annoyed as he returned to the living room, sitting next to Sherlock.

"Don't talk to me; I am eating ice-cream." Sherlock frowned and stuck a spoon-full into his mouth, glaring at nothing at all. "Mh..muhmm.." he tried to say trough the ice-cream and shrugged, when he realized he wouldn't be able to say anything coherent.

"Ok. Fine. Icecream's more important than me. Ok." He nodded, understanding what was going on with a frown. "For Christ's sake if you're wasting energy to speak to me, make it in bloody English thank you." He crossed his arms, looking at his watch.

Sherlock swallowed the ice-cream, ignoring the way it froze it's way down his throat. "I said, I need to wake Lestrade up." he explained and set the box down with a sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose to fight the headache.

"Then do it. The time you said that you could have done it." He commented, really annoyed now. How the hell could Sherlock be so hypocritcal? Ok, it was apparently fine for him to sleep with Jim _just because he could _but he'd get the literal cold shoulder from Sherlock if he just _looked _at someone else? Sheesh.

"I needed to wait till the frostbite is gone." Sherlock sighed and stood up, disappearing into the bedroom.

Two minutes later Greg emerged, looking partly skittish and partly not woken up just yet. "Hey man. Had fun?" he asked and slumped down onto the couch.

"No." John replied shortly, sighing and going to the kitchen. "Want some pancakes, Sherlock made a bunch of them. Tea maybe?" He asked, wanting to change the topic of conversation immediately. "Alot happened while you were gone."

"_Pancakes_? Since when can that idiot cook?" Greg raised his eyebrows at John, leaning over the arm of the couch to see John, even though he was in another room. "Wait, forget it - _why_ is there blood on the carpet?"

"Blood?" John looked down at the floor, "Sebastian got shot in the leg about an hour ago." He shrugged, putting the kettle on and walking back over. "Yeah, me and Sherlock made pancakes for Irene."

"Sebastian and Irene?" Greg blinked in confusion, "Went to pick Jim up in the morning or something? Why did you invite them for lunch? And why did he end up shot?"

"Uhh no. After Sherlock and Jim had sex, I think Jim just left. A guy from the organisation tried to kill Jim and we went over to his place and I fixed him up since he was in a bad way. Sebastian came over to kill me but Irene shot him in the knee and he left. Irene came round for lunch because Sherlock organised it apparently. We made pancakes and I made a cake which burnt and went in the bin." He smiled, hoping he explained everything.

"Uh.." the older stared him for a moment before he shook his head, "Fine. I am glad I slept trough that. Really." Greg nodded to himself. "Last question. Why do you have bite marks on your neck?" he raised his eyebrows, grinning at John.

John stopped, his hand immediately going to his neck and he blushed, trying to think of an excuse that wasn't insane."Would you uh.. believe me if I said mosquito? Honestly it was nothing sexual or anything. Seriously." He quickly spoke, trying to defend himself. Sherlock just bit him, that was honestly it. Nothing more – unfortunately.

"Mosquito.. John, really?" Greg chuckled merrily, "And what is _not_ sexual about sucking someone's neck?" he raised his eyebrows, finding great humour in the situation and, most of all, in the face John was making.

"Look, Sherlock had bite marks from Jim. He knew Irene would notice so he bit me to give her the illusion me and him were screwing and not Sherlock and Jim! I-I didn't want him to, sheesh! He just did it." John went bright red, throwing a cushion at Lestrade's head.

"You two are really morons." Greg rolled his eyes, but chuckled, taking the cushion to move it behind his neck. "Want me to tell him to stop molesting you?" he offered, eyes flicking towards the closed door to the bedroom, "But only after he is finished feeding his pets. Ew."

"Nah.." John smiled slightly, putting a hand to the mark. His eyes followed Greg's and he laughed, looking at the door. "You really don't like them, yet you slept for ages in a room full of them?"

"I was _asleep_." Greg shrugged, "And I was half-asleep when I went there, so I didn't really think about that." he shuddered in disgust, just the idea that he slept over five hours in a room full of rats.. with little teeth.. and those long tails. That was horrible. "I think I need coffee.." he moaned and shuffled into the kitchen, putting the kettle on. "John..?"

"Tea for me thanks." He called, settling into the sofa. John was surprised at how relaxing he actually found the room and it only just hit him how sleep deprived he felt. He seemed to just sink into the couch, curling up slightly without any thought and closed his eyes; letting fatigue drift him away.

"Right." Greg stepped over the flour covered floor, trying to get as little of that onto his bare feet as possible. He padded back into the living room five minutes later with two mugs and a pancake hanging from his mouth. He set the mugs down and finished the sweat, before giving John a small poke. "Come on, Johnny, you can't sleep here."

Already pretty deep into sleep, John woke up groggy. "Hmmm? Ugh..fine.." He stood up and made his way to the bedroom almost in a zombie like state. "Thanks for the tea.." John mumbled as he went into the bedroom, ignoring the rats and Sherlock as he climbed into bed; his mind set in one mode – Sleep.

Sherlock stilled in his movement when John came into the room, one rat hanging from his palm as he held it by it's tail. He blinked at the older male and shrugged, deciding not to comment. So he just closed the cage, setting the one rat onto his shoulder, and tugged the blanket over the younger. "Sleep well." Sherlock grinned.

John's sleepy face turned into a soft smile as he felt the blanket come over him and heard Sherlock's baritone. "Nunite love you.." He muttered, half asleep as he buried his head into the pillow. It had been some pretty exhausting hours and the soldier-to-be fell straight to sleep.

"Are you aware you don't make any sense while asleep?" Sherlock grinned, still partly leaning over the older, he pressed his lips to John's temple, no longer able to resist, and whispered: "Not that you do when you are awake either.." Sherlock moved out of the room, closing the door behind himself, careful not to move his head too much, since his rat was just exploring the adventurous world of his hair.

John was already in rem-sleep but a subconcious smile remained as he heard Sherlock's soothing voice. He wouldn't wake for a good few hours.

**Bored. Bassy's home now. He won't speak to me. JM**

**Knee all better? :) At least he won run away and leave you lonely this time. :) -SH**

**Knee's good but he's sulking in the bedroom and won't let me anywhere near him. :( So bored. JM**

**Awh, you poor, poor thing. -SH**

**Entertain me ;) JM**

**Turn around. Say 'timey wimey wibbly wobbly'. That won't amuse you, but it will make you look like a moron. -SH**

**Don't be so dull Sherlock. I'll have to find a new plaything... JM**

**Oh you wound me. That hurts. I think I am going to turn off my phone and eat ice-cream. Lots and lots of ice-cream. -SH**

**Enjoy it. Don't text me again. Busy now. JM**

Jim stood up, knowing what he wanted to do. He'd have to change. New alias was in order. Oh this would be fun. Very fun. "Bassy I'm leaving." He commented plainly, putting the phone in his pocket and walked out quickly.

Sherlock shrugged and hid the cellphone, moving to snatch the ice-cream once again. He noticed Lestrade dozing off on the sofa and rolled his eyes - honestly, what was it with everyone and sleeping today?

**Just one more thing before I destroy the phone. Crossdressing stripper or postman? JM**

**Crossdressing stripper definitely. Leave me your number, I will hire you for a birthday party. ;) -SH**

Sherlock grinned and hid Irene's cellphone into his pocket, his eyes falling onto the package Mycroft's PA left him. He sighed and uncovered it, finding quite flashy looking plain-black phone. How dull. He laid it onto the table, thinking that he will still use Irene's instead. Her, at least, wasn't bugged by Mycroft.

Why had John even bothered? He knew it would just end up in a nightmare again. He was so calm and relaxed with Sherlock before, he thought at least he'd have one nightmare free night. John woke with a start, the same place he always did in his nightmares. He looked around at the unfamiliar room blurrily, clutching onto the bedsheets. London.. He was in London still..with Sherlock. He knew he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep so returned to the living room, defeated. "Hey."

"Shh.." Sherlock turned and gave John a wicked grin, pressing his fingers to his lips, "The princess is asleep." he informed importantly, softly stroking the large rodent dozing on his shoulder. "As is Lestrade, by the way."

John stopped to look at the rat on his shoulder, surprised by it but went in and sat down quietly. "What the hell have you been feeding it? It's bloody huge." He spoke quietly, smiling.

"Rats are large, moron." Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Just don't touch them, one bite can kill a grown up person." he informed with a wide smile.

"Then why are y-..? Never mind." John sighed, checking the time as he was still quite shakey from the nightmare. "Never seen a rat in real life, if you don't count my sister." He smiled gently, realising he hadn't seen Harry in a while.

"Ew, siblings." Sherlock made a face, "Want to know what is Jim going to do from now on?" he sat up a bit straighter, whole face lit up and grinning.

"Tell me about it." John rolled his eyes, "I'm not the only one with an overbearing sister then." He looked at Sherlock curiously, "Go on then. Nun? A priest? A nurse?"

"A crossdressing stripper." Sherlock grinned, trying to suppress the laughing fit he felt coming.

John burst out laughing, "S-seriously? You're not kidding? A cross-dressing stripper? Oh my god." He shook his head in disbelief.

"Not kidding." Sherlock pressed his palm over his mouth, wide-eyed and giggling. He just couldn't help it, "He asked me what would be better.. _this_ or a postman.."

"A po-?" He couldn't help but just laughing more. "What was he gonna do? Door to door letterbox bombing? I have no idea what goes through that maniac's head."

"No, John." Sherlock smirked and leaned to poke the older, "He will find a way to go back in time and loose your Hogwarts letter." he said smugly.

"Ha, I always knew I wasn't a muggle!" John laughed, poking the other back. "Can't say much for you though. I always knew Rich was a little camp. But if you told me two months ago that he would be an international criminal cross-dressing stripper... Oh lord." He laughed more

Sherlock watched him laugh for a moment, barely suppressing his own laughter, "Ooh, that reminds me.. your birthday is in two months.." he smirked, tapping the pocket where he had Irene's cellphone, "So who do you want to see? Marilyn Monroe? Master Who? _Nero_?"

John looked at Sherlock, confused. "What d'you mean?" Nero? What the hell was he going on about..? John guessed that he might even be gone by two months; the army was desperate for doctors out there.

"It's your birthday. What's birthday party without a cosplaying stripper?" Sherlock titled his head sideways, grinning like a maniac. "And I _may_ know just the best one out there."

"Oh riight." John laughed, "Of course. What d'you think his stripper name would be? I think the sight would be horrifying.."

"Only the initials. Oh I don't know, he is a good actor, he might just pull it off.." Sherlock shrugged, "Who knows.. though I would _love_ to hear what Bassy has to say about Jimmy's career of choice."

"Oh god." John laughed again, holding his side. "I bet he'll like the private dances." He shook his head in disbelief. "What's the initials?"

"O. B." Sherlock shrugged and handed Irene's cellphone to John. He looked at Lestrade, sleeping in the armchair, and reached across the low table to poke him.

"Wha.." Greg jerked awake to see grinning Sherlock and almost screamed, noticing the rodent on his shoulder. "Go away!" he barked, pushing against Sherlock's chest so that the younger fell back against the sofa, laughing.

John kept on laughing, tears forming at Greg's rude akwakening. He looked back at Irene's phone, "O.B.. I'll have to look out. Y'know, since I always frequent cross-dressing strippers."

"Thought so." Sherlock poked his tongue out at John, catching the now-awakened rat before it could dart away from him. It wouldn't do to introduce possibly lethal animal to either John or Lestrade.

"'Cross-dressing strippers'? What are you guys high on?" Greg raised his eyebrows, blinking away the sleep from his eyes.

"Motiarty's now one." John grinned, "Holmes! I'll bloody snip that tounge of yours off if you keep doing that. Nice catch." He commented, raising a brow at the man.

"Don't call me 'Holmes', moron." Sherlock reached to kick John's thigh, "It makes me think about my brother. Ew." he made a face and set the rat back down onto his shoulder, letting it scramble over his neck and arms.

"Moriarty is.. _What_?" Greg looked from Sherlock to John and back, completely baffled. "How _hard_ did you wish for that, Sherlock?" he raised his eyebrows.

"Don't call me Watson then. Makes me think of my dad." He smiled, laughing at Greg's comment. "His new alias is some gay stripper. I wonder who he's trying to entertain himself with that."

"I find the idea of Jim in a frilly pink dress very entertaining." Sherlock grinned, "And I will call you whatever I want to. You know why? Because you can't make me stop." he smirked

"I find the idea of Moriarty in a dress very disturbing." Greg rolled his eyes, "About as much as your choice of pets."

"You can't make me stop calling you Holmes, Holmes." John raised his eyebrows, accepting the challenge. "I can make you stop, Holmes. I also think Jim in a pink frilly dress would be quite disturbing."

"Fine, keep calling me Holmes. You kept on calling me Holmes for most of the time we knew each other. Where is the novelty?" Sherlock sighed boredly and reached his hand to stroke the rat, just to have something to do.

"And you wonder why I sleep so much.." Greg muttered to himself, "It's better than listening to you - you guys are worse than a married couple. I am stealing your book, Sherly." he added and stood up, grabbing the first book he could find.

"We're nothing like a married couple." John sighed, thinking the idea was ridiculous. "I'm gonna go out. Anyone wanna come with?" He stood up slowly, shrugging.

Sherlock checked Irene's cellphone for time, before he shook his head, "Can't. Have a meeting in three hours." he shrugged.

"I will probably take a train back to the uni.. fuck safety, I want to talk to Molls." Greg frowned thoughtfully.

"I'll come with you actually. I need to pack my stuff for Army. And here, since I'm not going back otherwise.." He noted, "I only have this jumper with me, kinda got Moriarty's blood all over it and it makes me look like an old geezer. Who the hell wears cable-knit? Dad's old jumper anyway.." He muttered, looking down at it.

Sherlock just nodded without any comment, his mind elsewhere.

"Right." Greg agreed, "When do you want to go?"

"When? Whenever's most convinient for you, mate." He smiled slightly, looking over at Sherlock. "What's your meeting about?"

"Well you said you wanted to go out now, so.. now?" Greg shrugged. He stood up and yawned, stretching his arms and back.

Sherlock raised his eyes to look up at them thoughtfully, "Be careful not to get killed. Especially you, Lestrade."

"Yeah sure." He nodded towards Sherlock with a slight smile, "Seeya." John headed out of the door.


	32. Peace and Quiet

**Title: Of Rats and Men**

**Chapter: Peace and Quiet**

**Place: University; London**

**Characters: John Watson; Sherlock Holmes; Gregory Lestrade; Molly Hooper**

**Mood: Shocked; Scared; Sharing**

**Warnings: uh..**

* * *

Greg quickly pulled on his sweatshirt and jogged after John, throwing his arm around the younger when he caught up with him. "Soo.. Johnny.. Johnny, Johnny, Johnny." he smirked.

John zipped his jacket up, looking at the older slightly annoyed, "What's up, Gregory?"

"Care to explain why both you and our resident pain in the arse both have bites on your necks?" Greg smirked.

"I..I already explained it! He had bites from Jim, so bit me to make it look like we were screwing for Irene! We're not. I explained this.. I'm not complaining.. If Irene hadn't showed up.. I wouldn't have minded adding a few bites of my own." He laughed as they walked down the road. "Is it bad that everytime I see him I wanna take him right there right then?"

"Ooh." Greg exclaimed, his grin widening. "So you _aren't_ that innocent I thought you to be." he said, completely delighted. "Of course it's wrong; one - you are what, four years older than him? two - you are both males. Three - neither of you is exhibitionist, as far as I know." Greg bumped his shoulders into John, showing him that he meant it as a joke. "Completely wrong, of course. You should just do it the next time."

"_Please_ Greg. I've never been innocent." John smiled, "I'm not that old..4 years isn't a big age gap, we're both young and so what if we're both guys? I'm not exhibitionist..." He bumped his shoulders back. "And don't think I won't."

"Than hope the next time you see each other won't be - I don't know - in some pub. Or bank. Or the Scotland Yard." Greg chuckled, "Now _that_ would be quite fun, though. But please do it before I am made into responsible officer."

"Oh god.." John laughed, "I have some self-respect, Greg. But seriously, I can't be the only who looks at that face and thinks that. It's...like this weird obssesion going through my head. I look forwards to the day Greg Lestrade is a 'responsible officer'." John scoffed.

"It's a decease." Greg nodded solemnly, second later ruining it by a grin. "The Holmes' charm. It's good big brother doesn't possess an ounce, I would hate to feel anything even resembling lust towards him." he smirked. "It's difficult to get over that one.." Greg added thoughtfully, "But I am doing my best!"

"You might fall for the elder, you never know." The shorter man grinned, nudging Greg slightly. "You'll see him more often no doubt if you're working at Scotland Yard. Is there a cure for the disease?"

"Who knows." Greg rolled his eyes, "Molly is rather helpful in this one." he grinned cheekily. "And I quite doubt I could fall for Mycroft.. you know, with all the things Sherly told me.."

"Well those are things _Sherlock_ just _said_. Maybe beneath the suit and the tie is a nice guy. Who knows. Anyways, yeah, you've got Molly now! I feel bad leaving her all alone." He frowned slightly.

"Yeah.." Greg scratched his chin sheepishly, "I was thinking I might stay there, you know.. not that it wouldn't be fun with you guys, but.." he trailed of with a shrug. "Yeah."

"Yeah, I understand Greg. You go and do that if you want, I understand. She needs someone there with her and you'd be perfect." John nodded, "I mean, I'm going in two weeks anyways."

"I just don't want to get killed.." Greg sighed, "And I don't want to see Sherlock get killed either. But I guess he can take care of himself, even if he ends up alone." the man shrugged, looking thoughtfully at nothing at all.

"I understand yeah. Well, you're amazing Greg. You'll be able to handle yourself, DCI To Be." He smiled reassuringly at him. "When I get blown up by the Taliban it'll be all ok."

Greg didn't laugh or smile back, feeling quite too worried to do so. "Don't do that, you know. Don't get killed. Or hurt. Just stay few years and than come back. Be a doctor, you would like that, right?" he asked softly, watching the younger male hopefully.

"I can't help it. When I sign the contract, it's for atleast 20 years Greg. I'll be out there a lot I think. I will be a doctor but an active one, saving lives and helping the country and the soldiers. If I get hurt.. Y'know, shit happens. Atleast my life's got a purpose. I'd rather live than just be alive. D'you get me?" He returned the smile, watching the other softly.

"So one week, and then you will be gone for twenty years." Greg raised his eyebrows at John, "Sounds pretty fucked up, if you ask me. But I guess I get you, yeah.." he shrugged.

"I'll be back for some weekends and uhh...when I'm doing my tours of wherever I'm going.. I'll be gone for a while but back for a few weeks. I won't get to see you all often. Or at all but..yeah. I don't know." He shrugged, "Sorry.."

"I don't mind that much." Greg rolled his eyes, "I suspect I will be busy enough with my own work. And you can still write, right?" he grinned fleetingly. "But really - _twenty_ years. That's almost as long as you are alive, you know."

"Yeah.. I know. Kinda crazy. I will write as much as I can though. Promise. Well, if I'm not being blown up while my hand's are in some guy's heart trying to take shrapnel out." John attempted a smile gently. "I know it's a long time.. but it's what I want to do."

"Not trying to say otherwise, no worries." Greg raised his arms up in the gesture of surrender, smile playing across his lips, "It _does_ sound fun; only twenty years is a long time." he smiled tad bit sadly. "Who would've guessed those years ago, right?"

"Yeah.." John laughed, "Crazy. But hey! It's not like you'll only be up in Scotland Yard for a few months, will it?" He nudged him gently, trying to cheer up the mood. "We're not all gonna be so close together forever.."

"I will be there about eight hours per day. And than back home, Johnny." Greg rolled his eyes at him, "You just can't compare that, you twat."

John laughed, "Yeah.. of course sorry,mate." He grinned at the older man, "You'll be the best copper London's ever seen, mate."

"Nah. Only the most awkward one." Greg grinned, "I think I will be cool until some guy says 'No, I am not going to go by your instructions.'."

"Then you act all hard and cockney and play good cop-bad cop or something." He grinned, "I think you'd be really cool, putting prisoners away and helping solve cases. Watch for Sherlock though.. he want's to be a detective or something."

"If he does end up being," Greg said seriously, "At least I would be able to look after him. And he is brilliant; surely his help would be useful."

"He does do that thing, the deduction thing which could be helpful. He is brilliant yeah.. annoyingly so." He smiled gently, "He will be ok, Greg. He's Sherlock."

"Sounds right, doesn't it; that he will be fine." Greg grimaced, "With organisation trying to kill him behind his back; psychotic kid trying to destroy him and his own strange liking towards drugs? Wouldn't say he will be 'fine'. Alive, yes." he grinned, running his hand over his eyes.

"He'll be as fine as Sherlock _can _be.. You'll be ok too. None of you should worry.. despite the whole.. y'know.. bad things. Yeah, Sherlock will be alive. Something tells me he likes all this crazy stuff though. Not boring. Settling down in a relationship would be boring for him." he sighed slightly, knowing that's what he would like.

"Who knows. He might surprise you." Greg grinned. "Are you sure you want to go to the Uni with me? I will be terribly boring." he nodded towards the train station, as they walked trough the gates. "Will probably shut myself with Molls somewhere, so.."

"Yeah I do. It's fine. I need to pack all my stuff up anyways." John smiled with a nod. "Hopefully.. he might surprise me. I doubt it." He sighed although it wasn't a sad sigh. "I'll just pop my head in and say hi to Molly and I'll leave you two to it."

"Right." Greg grinned, "Don't forget to 'leave us to it'." he rolled his eyes fondly. "Let's hurry up, if we don't catch this one, we will be doomed to waiting for twenty minutes."

"I will don't worry. I don't wanna be there for uhh.. 'that'." He smiled, hurrying his pace along with the older, managing to get on-board the train and found an empty compartment for them both.

"You've got a dirty, dirty mind, my friend." Greg sat down heavily, making himself comfortable with his elbow propped onto his knee. "We've been 'dating' for what, two days? I mean - man, bit fast, aren't you?" he teased with a grin.

"I haven't got a dirty mind.." John laughed, "Just saying, y'know? Just saying." He sat down, relaxing into the chair. "I ain't fast.. I mean how many months did it take for me and Sherlock to get at it, and I was drunk." John smiled, "Excluding that incident, I haven't had sex in 5 months.. 5 bloody months! It's like girls are just friendzoning me or just not putting out anymore.."

"Horrible, horrible." Greg shook his head in amusement, "You should just go for celibate, you know? To make it official."

"Shut up.." John frowned, "You can see why I want to do Sherlock so badly.. maybe I'm just desperate and my brain's gone weird and I'm delusioned to thinking I want him so badly. Maybe I should just hit the clubs tonight..?" He smiled at the idea. "Get drunk.. have a good time or something"

Greg shrugged, moving his eyes out of the window to watch the scenery unfold, "You do that. Just warn him beforehand. Make a 'clean cut' or whatever." he shrugged again.

"I don't know what to do.. I'll just not. I want to prove to Sherlock that I am serious about him.." He smiled, looking out of the window. "I can't just be selfish or whatever." Gah.. what the hell was John even thinking?

"It's nothing about being or not being selfish.." Greg gave him a grin, "Or showing him something; if you are serious, than be serious. If you aren't, than there is nothing to do about it. And if you are serious.." he closed his eyes for a moment and sighed, "It would be better not to tell him. Make him think you aren't. Might hurt less when it's over."

"I'll just stay in tonight. Pack, watch a movie then order takeaway or something." John smiled with a sigh, looking at his phone, wondering if he should text Sherlock, to see if he's ok. He decided against it.

"Do as you wish, kiddo. You are an adult, after all." Greg grinned, "Though if you are bored or lonely, don't call me. And most definitely, don't come visit me." he added seriously, even though he was still grinning like a loon.

"I am an adult.. yeah.." John laughed, "I definitely will not. I don't really want.. uhh.. no thanks Greg. As much as you're a nice guy." He smiled, closing his eyes.

The older just rolled his eyes - something he knew he did far too often, as much as he hated to admit it - and looked out of the window again. Twenty more minutes of a travel; he couldn't wait to see the familiar scenery, the buildings, the streets. It was like his home most of the time. And he will be leaving for good in few months.

John must have fallen asleep for the last 20 minutes because he only woke up when he heard Lestrade getting up. He smiled at the familiar looking station, realising that he was back and he stood up, sorting his jacket out before following the other out. "Home sweet home." He muttered.

"For how long? A week?" Greg turned around to grin at him, before he climbed down to the concrete ground. He inhaled the cold, fresh air, almost starting a coughing fit. "So you gonna stay here for the week, or what?"

"No no.. Just the night." John jumped down off the train, miding the gap. "I'm going back to London tomorrow morning with my things." He walked back to campus with the older.

"Right. You don't have any seminars or lectures you will be missing?" Greg blinked, quite curious. "I mean - I _know_ Sherlock doesn't want to continue on in school, but you have to."

"I finished my semester and they're giving me time off for my training. Basically doing a home course now." John shrugged, "I'm clearing out the room for the next geezer. They'll have to deal with Sherlock's bloodstain on the headboard now though." He smiled, thinking how weird it'd be to go back there.

"I don't think the bloodstain is the worst thing.." Greg shuddered, "Do you know he had some poisonous spider when he started at the college? Said he lost it. It got away. Somewhere." he sighed, though he was a bit amused all the while, "I mean, I am glad he doesn't keep it in his flat - the rats are enough.. but just thinking about where did it go off to.."

"A spider? Oh god. Now I feel bad for his past roommate. Did he scare him off? If he did.. not surprised." John laughed slightly, "The rats are pretty bad.. and the body parts lying around in the kitchen. He's.. very eccentric."

"Not roommate. _Roommates_." Greg grinned quite evilly. "Most of them lasted about two days. Then asked to get another room. Cowards."

"Oh. Wow." John spoke, surprised. "To be honest there were days I wanted to leave but I stuck to it. Even when he pretended to put bloody aphrodisiacs in my drink and I smashed his head in." He laughed slightly.

Greg grimaced, "That was a bit.. too much, if you ask me. He did worse, you know. I mean - even if he _did_ put those in my drink, I wouldn't injure him." he shrugged. "But I guessed it worked for you, left you alone after that, didn't he."

"He actually put them in? What..what happened? How did you feel?" He asked curiously, "Well, you know I have an anger issue. I get pissed off, I get really pissed off. Hopefully army will calm that down."

"He did worse. Really." Greg shrugged again, "And I would rather not talk about this, you know." he added, looking away to hide that his cheeks got slightly red. "Not the sanest part of my life."

John frowned, not pushing the question any further with Greg. "I get ya." The two continued to walk until they got to the campus, they headed in direction of Molly's dorm. He stopped walking when they reached the courtyard however, he stopped at the place where Sarah was shot. Muttering an apology to Greg for stopping he kept walking. It felt surreal being back.

"You know.." Greg frowned lightly, his eyes flicking towards the very same spot, "You could talk to her parents. Tell them something positive or something. Might help you a bit. And them." he shrugged sheepishly, feeling so very useless when he found himself unable to voice what he wanted to. Greg didn't look at John as he waited for the younger to answer, instead crossed the rest of the way towards main door and inside.

"What would I say..? I'm sorry your daughter got shot in the head, it was all because she was dating me and I have a crazy organisation looking after me?" He sighed, shaking his head. "Nice thought though.. I'm too much of a coward." He put his hands in his pockets, shrugging.

"But you knew her. You can tell her parents what was she like at school." Greg tried again, and finally raised his eyes to meet John's, giving him reassuring smile. "You don't have to, of course. Just saying it might help you shake off the burden.."

"They knew what she was like. I just..Nah. Good idea though." John smiled slightly, heading to Molly's dorm and stopping outsidse the door and knocked.

Greg leaned against the wall next to the door, small smile visible on his lips.

Molly looked up from her textbook when he heard the knock and distangled himself from her covers, padding towards the door barefoot. She poked her head out to the corridor curiously, but brightened immediately when he saw the two males. "Hi." she said happily and stepped outside, hugging first John and then Greg.

"Hey Molly, how are you doing?" John smiled when he hugged the girl, his mood lifting immediately at the sense of familiarity.

"It's been terribly lonely here." Molly shrugged. She stepped into the dorm, motioning for the boys to follow her inside. "Very boring - though I at least managed get some work done.." she chuckled sheepishly.

Greg stepped inside and immediately moved to put on the kettle, already knowing where each of the tools was positioned. He took out two mugs as Molly's was already outside, and took to prepare tea.

"Sorry we were away with no notice." John smiled slightly, "Sherlock." He said hoping that that explained everything. "Sorry about leaving you alone." He lowered his voice and winked, "Greg missed ya"

Molly's cheeks coloured a bit and she looked down where she was toying with her fingers, "It's been quite weird few days.." she muttered, "I don't mind, really."

"I heard ya!" Greg called over from where he was pouring the boiling water into the mugs to make the tea, and looked up to roll his eyes at John.

John laughed at Greg's comment, smiling at Molly. "As much as I would love to stay here, I really gotta go pack. I'll leave you two to it, kay?" He hugged Molly again, "Seeyou around Molls." John walked out with a smile.

"Take care!" Molly called after him with a soft smile, Greg opting for simple 'bye' as he closed the door and poured John's tea into the sink with a shrug.

* * *

John returned to his old dorm, looking at 221-B with a bright smile. He unlocked the door and stepped into the dark dorm, turned the light on and smiled. John proceeded to pack, albiet slowly. He enjoyed the nostalgia he felt here but knew he just needed to get away.

After about half an hour, he took a break and made a cup of tea but froze when he saw a big black spider crawling along the floor. His eyes widened, being terrified of spiders and he jumped onto the bed.

"Oh my god.." He whispered, in disbelief. John quickly called Sherlock.  
"Sh-sh..sh-sher..pick up.."

Sherlock stopped in the middle of the deserted street and frowned down at the screen. For a moment he contemplated just not picking up - honestly, _what_ could John need anyway? Hadn't he gone off with Lestrade somewhere? - since he could already see the warehouse he was heading to, and the man he wanted to find didn't like waiting at all. Sherlock really didn't want him to go away just because he got distracted, but sighed and answered the call anyway.

"What." he said plainly, not really in the mood to sound civil.

"Sher..sh-sherlock.." John said, backing as far as he could on the bed, pretrified to the point he was struggling to breathe, his voice was a whisper. "Sherlock p-please..there's..ther-." He stopped, eyes going wide as he saw it move. "Oh god..please."

The younger felt his eyes widen only by the sound of John's panicked voice, and quickened up his pace in irrational desire to be able to do something, _anything_ to help. "Calm down John." Sherlock forced himself to sound calm, his voice low, trying to soothe. "Where are you right now and who is with you?"

John looked around the room as if someone were to appear. "I-I'm alone..oh god.. Sh-sherlock.." He hated spiders more than anything else on the planet, let alone ones as big as a watermelon which was deadly poisonous. He stood up on the bed, retreating backwards as the spider decided to climb up it, causing a small yelp from John, who was close to tears. "Sh-sherlock! I-i'm in the dorm a-and..there's A BLOODY MASSIVE SPIDER!" He yelled down the phone, terrified.

"_Oh_!" Sherlock exclaimed, chuckling as he felt the relief sour trough him. "Her. Could you catch her? Into some bowl or something." he grinned in delight, before he caught himself. "Or not. You have arachnophobia. Leave the room and close the door. Could you get Lestrade to catch her? He doesn't mind spiders that much." Sherlock instructed quickly and stopped his walk for a second to poke his head trough the gate of the warehouse. Yup, his mercenary was already there.

"Bu-but Sherlock.." He breathed, jumping across the room as the spider got closer. The adrenaline shot through him and he slammed the door, running as fast as he could to Molly's dorm and hammered on the door, hanging up on Sherlock, gasping for air.

* * *

It took Greg about three seconds to open the door, all traces of laughter previous disappearing from his face when he saw John's expression. "John?" the older leaned over to him, quickly scanning his body for any signs of injury.

Molly looked over Greg's shoulders, eyes wide and scared, but she stayed silent, trusting the two males to talk to each other.

Sherlock blinked at the now-silent cellphone at his hand and shrugged. He tried to suppress any distress he could feel when he stepped into the darkness. He will need all of his wits to talk to the dealer.

"S-spider..The spider.." He frowned, feeling close to tears as he was shaking and held onto the doorframe. "I-it's massive a-and huge and tried to eat me."

Greg stared at him for few seconds, completely baffled. "_What_?" he voiced his confusion, before he flicked his eyes at Molly to see if she had any idea of what the hell was going on.

She just shrugged, but pushed past the older male and circled her thin arms around John's frame lightly, "What happened, John..?" Molly asked softly, rubbing circles into his back.

John calmed down a bit at Molly's touch, catching his breath. "Sherlock's spider. His big massive poisonous one is in the dorm. He told me to catch it bu-.." He shook his head, "I hate them so much. I.." He looked to Greg for help, "Please?"

"Well just don't go in there again." Greg shrugged. "I will go and get your things for you - are you finished with your packing?" he stepped over the two and out onto the corridor, not caring one bit that he was barefoot.

Molly stepped back but kept her small hand on John's arm, tugging him inside. She pushed him down onto a chair more firmly and with more force than anyone could expect from her, smiling reassuringly down at him.

"Pretty much yeah..thanks a tonne Greg." He smiled but was quite shocked with the amount of force he was pushed down by Molly but smiled thankfully up at her anyways.

"Wait a min mate." Greg grinned and jogged off in search of John's stuff. He opened the door into the dorm with caution, but didn't see the spider anywhere. He shrugged, thinking that it was probably under some bed, more scared of people than people were of it. Greg kept his eyes on the door as not to let the animal escape and grabbed John's bags, returning into Molly's dorm shortly after.

Molly moved to sit on another chair, "You are leaving for training then?" she asked John, the soft smile turning a bit sad.

"In a week yeah.." He smiled softly at Molly, "I'll come back an visit loads. You'll be sick to death of the sight of me." John reassured her before turning his head when he heard Greg. "That was really quick."

"You don't have much stuff." Greg shrugged and laid the bags down onto the floor. "Didn't see the spider, it probably crawled under some bed. Or into it's nest or something." he said, trying not to sound as disappointed as he felt.

John shuddered, "Nest.." and shook his head. "Thank you for that though, Greg. I appriciate it. I was planning on sleeping there tonight but I'll just make my way back to London instead." He smiled weakly at them both.

"Would be best." the older grinned, "I mean - I _could_ go find the spider and catch it, but I don't want any pets and I quite doubt you will be willing to carry it to London to it's rightful master." Greg shrugged, and jumped to sit up on the kitchen counter, watching both John and Molly with content smile.

"Yeah.. No way in a million years would I take that thing back." He laughed gently, checking his watch and a sad smile fell onto his face. "If I wanna beat rush-hour.. I should go now.." John looked at Greg and then Molly before standing up, "I'm cramping your style already. I'll leave you two love-birds to it, yeah?" John laughed, going to give Molly a hug. "Keep in touch."

"We will try." Molly grinned, lightly squeezing John to herself for a moment.

"Write. And take care of yourself." she said urgently before letting go.

"Well, see you, mate." Greg shrugged and patted his shoulder.

"I will. You too Molly." He smiled at them both, "Seeya!" before heading out of Molly's dorm with his bag and went for the train station.

* * *

After taking the journey back, by the time he had gotten off, gotten the tube and a cab, it was dark when he reached Baker Street. The door was open still and he went upstairs.

"Sherlock? You in?"

"Obviously." Sherlock said silently, but didn't move. He was sitting at exactly the same spot he assumed when he returned from his earlier trip; in his chair with his fingers entwined and staring at nothing at all.

John walked in, putting his bag away before returning and looking at him, slightly amused. "Meeting go ok then?" He asked, sitting down.

"What meeting." Sherlock shot back absently, though his eyes remained unfocused and guarded. He tensed for a moment when he heard John relax into the other chair, but soon forced his muscles to unclench.

"You said this morning that you were going for a meeting." John commented, looking at the teen with a small smile. He looked around the room, nothing had changed in the small hours of his absence, yet why would they?

"Oh that one.." Sherlock shrugged, his eyes for a moment concentrating on John. He smiled a bit as well upon seeing the older. "Just needed to buy.. stuff.." he finished tastily. "How's Lestrade doi-" Sherlock froze in mid-sentence and sat up straighter, eyes widening for a moment. "_Oh_." he breathed out.

"Huh? Sherlock..? What's wrong?" John asked, looking confused at the younger. Had something gone wrong? Or had he had an idea?

"_Wrong_?" Sherlock repeated in confusion, "Nothing is wrong. Quite the opposite." he grinned brightly, "I just thought of a solution to the problem I have been thinking about for at least four hours."

"Oh that's good then." John laughed slightly, "What was the problem?" He asked, "Fours hours is a long time.. how'd you get the answer?"

"The problem was about my future actions." Sherlock rolled his eyes, "And straight from the start I realized I will need help with one particular step, just didn't know who to ask. But Lestrade will help me. He _must_ help me." the young male closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. "He must.."

"Sorry, I don't know what you're going on about." John smiled slightly, "Future plans..?"

"Yes. Future plans." the younger agreed a bit sadly, "I will need help with one part.. and just couldn't think of anyone who would be willing to help me and not judge me." Sherlock sighed.

"Can you tell me what these plans are? I'm guessing they're secret since you haven't withered on with an explanation like you normal do." Jesus..was he deducing? He'd been hanging around with Sherlock too much.

"Those don't concern you, John." Sherlock looked up to give him a tight smile, "You won't be here by the time I need to do this. Not anymore." Which is exactly why he would have to do it, Sherlock grimaced. "And if I am right; which I usually am, you will never know.."

John nodded, slightly annnoyed that Sherlock could trust Lestrade more like that but guessed that he was right because John wouldn't be here anyways. He gave Sherlock a slight smile. "D'you want tea? I know it's a bit late but whatever."

Sherlock didn't answer, too lost in thought. He absently watched the older move around as he tried to think of a way to make Lestrade help him in the end. It would be tricky; the male was far too much of a moralist.

John went off to the kitchen, understanding that Sherlock was in thought and not just ignoring him. He filled the kettle up with water and made two cups of tea, setting one down gently next to Sherlock and sat back down, looking over at him.

"..Thank you." Sherlock frowned fleetingly down at the cup, as if for a moment not getting how did it get there. "Did you bring me the spider?" he raised his eyes up at John hopefully, leaning forward in the chair.

John felt ill at the mere thought of that creature. "Oh god no.. I couldn't go back in there. Greg said it wasn't there wheh he went back to get my stuff." He shrugged, taking a sip. "I wouldn't go near it again..it was huge!"

"I see.." Sherlock muttered silently, looking down at his hands. He tried hard not to let his disappointment be seen, hiding his face behind the cup of tea.

"Sorry.." John added with a small smile and took a sip of tea, sighing and resting into the chair. He was quite sleepy as it was late, he looked to the window and saw it was very dark.

"It's fine.." the younger sighed again, "I mean - it's good she is free, right? Free to go wherever she wants to.." Sherlock looked up at John eagerly, hoping for the older to tell him he was right.

"Yeah, you're right." John nodded, "Let's just hope it- she doesn't bite anyone." He smiled slightly, "Besides you've got your pet rats to look after"

Sherlock smiled widely and set down the cup, "I do." he nodded in agreement, all previous bad mood completely forgotten. "They are far more dangerous, but she was much more scary.. I liked her.. she was moody."

"Scary? Dangerous..moody?" He laughed slightly, "They say owners look for their own qualities or complimenting personalities in their pets." John mused slightly, "Are you hungry? I could make something for you. Or just get you the icecream." He sipped his tea gently.

"I _can_ stand up and get it myself." Sherlock rolled his eyes. He did so, for a moment disappearing into the kitchen; he poked his head trough the doorway just few seconds later, though, frown on his forehead, "I am not scary, am I?"

"No. Sometimes it seems like you want to seem to be but you're the least scariest person ever." He smiled warmly at Sherlock, "I guess some people might think that. Some people think spiders are scary, I do. Yet I don't find your rats scary.. point of view." John shrugged.

"I can't be scary.. that would completely ruin everything.." he muttered, worried, as he moved to get the ice-cream and spoon from the kitchen. Sherlock sat down on the couch next to John, so that he could lean against the older. John was always warm; that was nice.

A fond smile appeared on John's face, resting his head on Sherlock's shoulder. He liked being close to Sherlock, he was comforting and always smelled nice; smelled of home. It didn't help with the fact he wanted to pin the younger to couch and take him right there right now.

Sherlock sighed in content and shifted so that he could be more comfortable, snuggled into John's side. "How are you so warm..?" he asked silently, only a murmur. "You always have warm hands.. how?" Sherlock repeated, though he wasn't looking at John but kept his eyes closed.

John closed his own eyes, taking Sherlock's cold hand in his own. His hand was cold... Sherlock was always cold. "Good circulation? Big heart? Hot headed?" He suggested softly, smile still there. "Mum always said I was like a radiator."

"You have got a big heart." Sherlock agreed with a soft smile, "I don't have one. Neither does Jim. We are like statues made of stone. Cold and smart." he whispered and turned to sit with his legs crossed, facing John and leaning sideways against the back of the couch.

"You do have a heart." John smiled at him gently, putting his hand on Sherlock's chest, feeling his steady pulse. "Jim too. You're not monsters. Well, you're not." He chuckled gently. "I do agree with you being smart." His warm hand went to Sherlock's cheek, "And cold."

Sherlock rested his own hand over John's, holding it against his cheek. "Of course I have a heart - in that sense. Yet.." he grimaced slightly, keeping his eyes closed still. "That's why I like sex." Sherlock blurted out, suddenly eager to explain, "It makes me warm. And I can feel my heart beat faster, that doesn't happen often.."

"Oh." John smiled, raising an eyebrow at the other man. "Well, I like sex too. Just to let you know." He shrugged, "Want to try and make your heart beat faster..?" John suggested, fighting the urge to drag him to the bed already.

"To try and- _oh_." Sherlock opened his eyes to look at the older, at first with confusion, but soon he started shaking with mirth. "Oh you are fun, John Watson." he muttered trough his attempts to stop laughing silently.

"Fun huh? Never been called that before." He smiled , laughing slightly as he leaned over to the taller, straddling him. "So, are you gonna answer my question?" John grinned, leaning close to other, putting his hand back on Sherlock's heart.

Sherlock cocked his head sideways, "It depends.. are you sure you mean it?" he asked seriously, but already reached his hands up to run his fingers over John's jaw, his neck and down to rest them on his shoulders.

"I really really mean it." John replied seriously, looking Sherlock over almost hungrily. His serious face left and a small smile replaced it, bringing his own lips to Sherlock's shyly and kissed him, running one hand through the younger's curls. It was an intoxicating experience, moreso than any alcohol he had ever tried. He kept his other hand still on Sherlock's chest, monitoring the heartbeat still.

Grinning lightly, Sherlock raised his arms to hook them loosely around John's neck and titled his head back to give John better access. He felt warmth raising into his cheeks and closed his eyes, his heart skipping a beat and then continuing on with it's journey as if nothing had happened.

He was very pleased that Sherlock returned his feelings. John wanted to enjoy this moment as long as he could, the calmness, the contentness he felt with the other so close to him; that's what his brain said. His body however was very deprived of contact for a long time. John deepened the kiss, feeling his own cheeks grow hot and his breathing heavier. He ran the hand down Sherlock's chest before begining to undo the pale man's shirt clumsily and desperately.

Sherlock leaned back a bit, his breathing shallow and fast, and moved his arms away from John so that he could easily slide the shirt down from his body. "You are a bit overdressed, aren't you.." the younger murmured playfully and hooked his fingers over the hem of John's t-shirt, tugging it off as quickly as possible. He found himself admiring John's bare chest once again, fingers dancing over the well defined muscles on his shoulders and arms. "And still just as hot.."

"Very.." John breathed as a reply, Sherlock's cold hands touching John's bare and exposed skin caused him to shudder in a pleasant way. He smiled at the almost beautiful sight of Sherlock's porcelin skin, it just looked perfect to John's eyes. He pushed the younger into the couch, pressing himself against Sherlock; the hot skin on the cold. He could feel Sherlock's heart pound and he laughed gently, kissing the other hungrily.

"Something funny?" Sherlock grinned, puffing breaths of hot air over John's lips. He moved his long fingers to run them trough John's hair, his other hand travelling down until he reached the edge of John's trousers. John's skin was almost burning beneath his fingertips, as Sherlock quickly unzipped the piece of clothes, exploring the exposed parts of the older male's body.

"Y-you..definitely have a heart. Doctor's word." He grinned, the feeling of Sherlock's cold hands travelling causing him to shudder again. John smiled, moving his hands to undo Sherlock's trousers, desperate for the other. He kissed the younger again as he moved his hands into the other's underwear. "Both definatley over dressed.. and we should move to the room. I hope the rats won't mind." He laughed again, breathlessly.

"Used to it, probably." Sherlock rolled his eyes but moved to stand up unsteadily, leaving both his and John's trousers thrown over the sofa. "Well, hurry up then, we don't have the whole night." he grinned, almost bouncing on his feet in impatience.

"And I thought I was being impatient.." John smiled, sitting up and taking Sherlock's hand pulling him quickly into the bedroom and pushed him heavily onto the bed, climbing ontop of his, kissing down his chest. "You have no idea..how much I've wanted to do this.." John breathed, smiling at the feel of Sherlock's skin. "It's been my every thought all day."

"Than you are exactly that moronic I thought you to be." the younger circled his arms around John, running his fingers up and down his spine just like he did the time before. He pulled the older down for a kiss, taking deep breaths of John's scent.

"Of course." John spoke gently before kissing the younger strongly, moving his hand to palm at Sherlock's groin. He pulled away from the kiss for air, eyes full of lust as he looked at the other's reddening face, happy to see colour there as he had said before.

"Because there.. was nothing stopping you, was there." Sherlock breathed out with a smile. "But this.." he motioned towards their position, sparks running trough his spine if only because he could feel John's heartbeat trough their chests pressed together, "This brings back memories."

"Memories..?" John asked with a confused smile at first, thinking he must be talking about Jim but then realised it was about him and Sherlock. "Oh..right." He laughed breathlessly, "Good memories?" John kissed Sherlock again, getting a shy grasp on Sherlock's half hard-orn.

"What do you think." Sherlock purred and moved to sit up, facing John, with their legs entwined. He shuffled as close as he good, crawling to sit in John's lap, and rocked their hips together. "Though I am sure you remember enough to know that." he added and circled his arms around John's shoulders.

"I remember yeah. Very much so.. well..kinda.." John found it hard to think or say anything coherent. A small gasp escaped the older as their hips came into such close contact. He kissed Sherlock again, only because it was so damn intoxicating. John noticed the marks left of Sherlock's skin, the marks left by Jim. He ran his fingers over them gently before ignoring them, running kisses down his chest.

"I honestly didn't notice when he did that.." Sherlock muttered thoughtfully, his own fingers moving to explore John's back, even though he still remembered every smallest line. "And I doubt he was being very sneaky about it, either.."

"Maybe you were just enjoying yourself too much.." John murmered, enjoying _himself_, he was slightly worried Sherlock wasn't feeling the same. God, this would be so much easier if he was drunk, then he wouldn't be overthinking everything. He moved himself down, kissing Sherlock strongly again before removing the other's underwear.

"Might have." Sherlock allowed, kicking the piece of attire away. He tugged John's pants down as well, flicking his fingers teasingly over the man's navel. "You know what?" the younger asked, leaning to press his lips against the pulsing point on John's neck, "You are hot."

John sighed outwardly, moaning gently at the contact, digging his hands into Sherlock's shoulders. His neck was just so damn sensitive. "W-we've gone over this.." He chuckled gently, "Big heart...remember?"

"Oh. I didn't mean it like that." Sherlock grinned. He grazed his teeth gently over John's neck before nipping at the skin, not enough to leave mark this time. "Of course you are warm. But I didn't mean that this time."

"Sh-sher.." He breathed, pushing himself against the younger. John laughed gently, raising an eyebrow at him, "You think.. I'm hot?" He was actually surprised by that.

"I said it, didn't I." the younger rolled his eyes, flicking his tongue over the spot he had just bitten. John's reaction was nice. He moved to the other side of his neck, biting down again.

"Well..y-yes you did.." John mummbled before moaning again, "Sherlock.." If he was warm before he was scorching now, the sensations ran all over his body, as if every feeling he had was extra sensative. He pushed himself against Sherlock again, he just needed him now. God he was such a tease.

"I always lie." Sherlock muttered, just needing John to know this. "But this time I didn't. You are. Very." he licked at the bitten spot once again and moved his teeth down, just over the older male's collarbone. Sherlock titled John's head sideways to have enough space and bit down again, the taste of his skin almost overwhelming.

"Tha-..That's a paradox there.." He managed to say before moaning breathlessly, "Oh god.." John tightened his grip around Sherlock, running his hand up the other's shaft. Everything about the other was simply intoxicating, his voice, his taste, his scent. He was driving John crazy with his teasing until it got to a point where he had to stop Sherlock, moving his head up gently, kissing him. "I-I need you.." He whispered, almost pleading. John wanted him so badly that he felt he would die any second longer.

Sherlock simply laughed, moving John's hand away from his erection, and leaned to lick his lower lip. "What's stopping you." he whispered against John's lip, sinking his teeth into the lower one, if only just to see the face John made.

"No-nothi.." John began but was cut off once more by another moan, running his hands through and clutching at Sherlock's hair. He reopened his eyes, giving him almost an embaressed pout before laughing again, "You being a little tease.." John finally answered before kissing the younger's lips, positioning himself properly ontop of Sherlock before entering him. Just the feeling alone made him moan, having forgotten just how tight it felt inside him.

"Oh dear.." Sherlock muttered, eyes screwed shut, and he breathed trough his nose as not to scream or cry out. He rested his palm over John's chest to stop the older from moving, the familiar burn of being stretched hurting like hell, since he had still been sore from earlier. "One second.." he pleaded silently, counting each breath to stop himself from shaking.

"S-sorry.." John opened his eyes, looking apolgetically at the other. He had never been the receiver before, actually the idea did kind of scare him, he knew that Sherlock must be in inense pain. John felt his own arms shaking, he was fighting against himself not to move, no matter how desperate he was. He cared a lot about the other and didn't want him to be in too much pain but he knew it was unavoidable.

"'S fine.." Sherlock sighed. He fought to open his eyes, looking up at John, and reached his fingers to run them over the older's jaw. "You can move, it's fine.." he repeated silently, forcing his body to relax and hold still.

He smiled gently at the other, pressing a kiss to his forehead before finally letting his body move, doing so with a small moan. He tried to be as gentle as he could at first but John's body wouldn't let him, desperate for the friction that was being provided.

Sherlock cried out silently, tightening his arms around the older, and threw his head back. He was already breathing unsteadily, the pain battling with slight sparks of pleasure in his body. "Slow down.." he murmured softly towards John, his nails clawing into the older's back.

Only just hearing Sherlock, he slowed his pace down considerably despite it feeling like torture. "Sorry..just a bit excited I guess" he laughed softly, smiling at the other, his breathing unsteady. He put his hand gently on Sherlock's chest. "Definitely still got one.. In more than the biological sense."

"For now." He answered John's statement, his eyes clouding with sadness for a moment, as he thought about what he will have to do. "Doesn't matter now, does it.." he sighed and moved his eyes to watch the older carefully, noting every smallest hint of expression on his face. "Let us try something.." Sherlock murmured silently and hooked his legs over John's, turning them over in one quick move, so that he was straddling the older.

John was surprised yet confused by Sherlock's sudden mood swing, what had caused him to look so sad? Especially in his eyes.. his _brilliant_ eyes. "For now? Always Sherlock. I mean, you may don't think you have one. But you do. You have mine." He smiled, blushing. _John, that was the stupidest and the most moronic thing to say ever, you git._ He didn't care though, it's just how he felt. John looked confused, as they turned over, looking up at the slim teen curiously. "What're you doing..?"

"Caring. Loving someone. That's not an advantage." Sherlock leaned to whisper, leaning his palms onto the older's chest to stay upright. "But I will do so, for few more days only." he finished, raising up at his knees to slowly lower himself onto John's shaft. "And what am I doing?" he laughed lightly, "As much as I hate being in charge, John, I don't think I can take your deplorable attempt at being careful right now."

"An advantage in what? It is an advantage.." He frowned slightly, "Now you're sounding like your brother. John watched Sherlock curiously before letting out another slight moan as he lowered himself down. "De-deplorable?"

"My brother is surprisingly right about some things. Yet, he allowed himself to love someone as well." Sherlock smiled softly before raising up on his knees again and slowly moving down. He picked up an easy pace, careful to angle his moves as not to hurt himself. "And yes." he laughed breathlessly, "You have a lot to learn about sex. And I don't want to hurt any more than necessary."

"A-and is your brother at any more disadvantage for that?" He asked though he was quit breathless, smiling up at the other. It was quite odd to not be in control, he didn't know how he felt about it. All he knew was that Sherlock was so damn tight and it felt amazing, he was glad that Sherlock was going to be in less pain though and he tried not to buck his hips as much. "H-hey! You gotta cut me.. some slack Sherlock." John sighed, grinning up at him, "This is only my second time with a guy ever.. and I'm 5 months out of practice.."

"He is, and would be even more if it was _me_ who he is against, since I am the only one who knows." Sherlock muttered, his voice low and silent. He straightened a bit and leaned his hands back against John's thighs to support his weigh, his back arched as he continued on with the rocking motion.

John frowned, wanting to say something back but all trace of rational thought left him. The words he muttered, if they could even be considered words, were completely incoherent. He moaned softly, running his hand over Sherlock's chest. He couldn't help but move his hips in time with Sherlock's rhythm.

"Gently." Sherlock murmured softly, rocking his hips back and forth for a moment, just to change the pace. He snorted, opening his eyes to grin at the older, "I can't believe I said that.." he let out a silent moan, unable to hold it in, eyes fluttering close before he forced them open again. "That's first."

"Telling someone to go gently..?" He asked, surprised and slightly embaressed about the lack of control he had over his own body, trying the ease his movements but it was hard especially with the encouragement of Sherlock's moan. Going gently was the last thing his body wanted to do, it was frighteningly torturous.

Sherlock nodded his agreement and picked up the pace a bit when he felt his body was warmed up enough to balance the pain with pleasure. He closed his eyes tightly, concentrating only on the feeling as he moved up and down in rhythm.

"Sh.." John breathed, unable to say anything more as he closed his eyes, resting his head down on the mattress as he didn't have the energy to keep it up. He starting bucking his hips harder off their own accord despite what Sherlock had said previous. He managed to keep in time with Sherlock and couldn't help but moan at the overwhelming feeling.

Sherlock moaned and had to lean forwards as tremors ran trough his body, moving his forehead to press it against John's collarbone. He reached to grab the older male's hands and shifted them onto his hips, unsteadily keeping up the pace.

John kept his grip tight around Sherlock's hips, keeping him close as John rocked his hips in a faster motion. He moaned, keeping his eyes shut as every part of him seemed to just set on fire. He felt his arms shaking as they held Sherlock, he knew he wouldn't be able to carry on for much longer.

Sherlock chuckled breathlessly, "Come on top.." he muttered, rolling sideways to tug the older up. He moved his arms around John's neck, trembling, his heart racing.

John grinned as they rolled sideways, managing to be ontop of Sherlock properly, muttering something incoherent but the world 'deplorable' being made barely recognisable above his whispers. He ground their hips together before pushing himself alot faster than before, being able to with the change of position. John gripped onto Sherlock's shoulders, moaning as he breathed heavily. "S-sherlock.. Oh g-god.." He breathed as he made his last few rough movements before releasing finally.

Sherlock breathed heavily, for a moment remaining unmoving as he let John ride out his orgasm. "Deplorable." He rolled his eyes fondly, flushed, and reached down to bring himself over the edge with several harsh strokes as well.

Catching his breath still, John smiled gently at Sherlock, his whole body hotter than before. He put his head on Sherlock's chest, feeling his heart pound away. "D-did you succeed in making yourself feel hotter and more alive?" John asked the younger, looking up at him.

"What do you think?" Sherlock smirked lazily, running his hands all over John's body. "Though I-" he yawned hugely, "I might fall asleep soon." he muttered, trying to shift onto his side without pushing the older away.

"Alright.. I think I might do too to be honest." John smiled fondly at him, running his hand gently through Sherlock's mess of curls as he moved off him slightly, letting the other move before curling up to him again. "Hope you don't mind that I stay here for the night..I haven't the energy to get up.," he smiled, closing his eyes.

"It's fine." the younger muttered, pressing against John as close as he could. His scent surrounding him and soothing him, together with the warmth he had acquired slowly putting him off to sleep. "Sleep well.." he mumbled silently, arms around John to be sure he stayed there.

John smiled softly at the younger, watching him close his eyes as he sighed softly feeling warm and content. It was long at all before John fell asleep, thankfully into a dreamless sleep without the recurring nightmare. It was in Sherlock's prescense that John always felt most happy, most safe and most at home.

* * *

Sherlock woke up some five hours after he had fallen asleep, feeling completely confused. He, though, managed to crawl out of the bed and to a shower, far too sticky and sore to just ignore it, before he padded back into the bedroom. He sat down onto the very edge and looked down at the sleeping male thoughtfully. "How am I supposed to move on.. when you are all over the place?" he muttered to himself, reaching to trail his fingers over the warm skin of his friend.

With Sherlock's cold hand running lightly over his skin, John woke up slowly and sleepily opened his eyes; glad to see that his first view was Sherlock. He smiled gently at the other, he had always been a light sleeper. "G'mornin.." He mumbled as he sat up gently, running a hand through his hair, it could really use with a cut.

"Go back to sleep John." Sherlock murmured silently, moving his hand away. "It's far too early to be awake." he added, even managing to send John's way a smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"W's time?" He asked sleepily, blinking still to try and see clearly, smiling at Sherlock's attempt of a smile. John didn't need to be told twice as he put his head on the pillow, exhausted still. "How come you're up then?" He mummbled into the pillow.

"Thinking." Sherlock said simply and sighed, rubbing his hand over his eyes. "And I really needed a shower." he added as an explanation. "One question. How would you describe yourself in one word?" Sherlock shuffled onto the bed, sitting next to John and peering down at what was visible of his face.

"S'ats a hard question in the morning.. I dunno.. " John turned his head to the side to look at the other, thinking. "Right now? Sleepy" he smiled, "But that's not an answer you're looking for. I dunno..how you describe yourself in one word?"

"I don't need to describe _myself_, I need to describe _you_." the younger just rolled his eyes. "Forget it." he sighed, leaning his back against the headboard. "When are you leaving?"

"Ok ok.. One word. Loyal?" John looked up at the other, confused to why he needed to know that but let it slide, sighing. "3 days. Earlier if you want me to." He didn't know what Sherlock wanted at all, "Sherlock, what did you mean by what you said last night? About only for a few days more..?"

"What do you mean exactly? I said a lot of things." Sherlock looked up, eyes trained at the ceiling, but not really seeing it. "Three days, hmm.. Than you will be away for two weeks straight. And then you will come back to London for the weekends? That's what Gregory said.."

"Yeah. 3 days then I'll get the train to Basingstoke to see dad and visit Harry and Clara, if she's even sober. Then I'll head to Dorset for training down at Bovington." John spoke with a small smile. "I'll come back for weekends yeah. Don't miss me too much." He teased lightly before looking at Sherlock properly. "Are you..ok, Sherlock?"

"Just thinking." the younger closed his eyes for a moment. "How long till your training ends?" he asked again, finally opening his eyes to look at the older.

"6 months." John said, slightly quieter than before. "Then..I don't know. Then I think I might have to do my first tour. They'll want to ship as many doctors out as they can." He smiled gently, looking at his hands.

"Six months.." Sherlock repeated thoughtfully, "That's a long time. Though I am not sure if it's too long, or just long enough. At least I hope it's long enough. Should be, yes." he muttered quickly to himself, tapping his fingers against his knee.

"Long enough?" John asked, "Long enough for what?" His voice was sleepy as he closed his eyes again, feeling warm and cozy under the cover. Maybe he should just leave Sherlock to think and ramble on.

"To realize _who_ are you." Sherlock grinned fleetingly, "To be able to categorize you and pack you into a box with a clear label." he added, reaching his hand to run it trough John's hair.

"I've known you for a good few months now. Hasn't that been long enough?" John asked, smiling as the other touched his hair. "But y'know..do whatever it is that goes on inside that brilliant mind.."

"Of course I will. Promise me not to judge me, if you ever find out what I did- well, what I _plan_ to do?" he asked softly, soft smile tugging at his lips.

"Judge you? Why would I judge you? Unless you're going to go kill some innocent person. Of course I won't." John smiled, opening his eyes. "Why? What are you planning to do?"

Sherlock chuckled, leaning his head down to press his forehead against John's. "Not _killing_ anyone, per say. Don't worry. And as I said - if I am right, which I am sure I am, you will never know." he whispered, eyes boring down into John's.

John had no idea what Sherlock was badgering on about but he smiled anyways, "Good. I don't want to have to be at the court case of Sherlock Holmes the murderer." He smiled fondly up at him, looking up at his eyes. His _brilliant, brilliant eyes. _"Never know.. what? Your plan?"

"Exactly." Sherlock grinned. He moved into more comfortable position, laying next to the older, and cushioned his head onto his shoulder. "Not much of a plan, though, just something I need to do to be able to continue on."

"Why're you keeping it so top secret then?" John asked, wrapping his arm around the other, gently running his had through Sherlock's hair. "I could help.. friends help each other.."

"Gregory will help." Sherlock stated, giving a soft sigh at John's hands massaging his scalp. "You won't be here by that time." he repeated. "Now go to sleep. It's too early to be thinking so hard."

"Greg's good to help.. he can deal with your spiders.." He smiled softly, resting his head back down onto the pillow and shut his eyes. "You're right.. it is too bloody early.." John sighed gently, "Just don't be causing too much trouble when I'm gone, Sherlock.." He closed his eyes as he listened to Sherlock's steady breathing.

"Not promising anything." Sherlock grinned sadly and settled back against him, feeling himself on the verge of falling asleep as well. "And yet, if I do.. you will never know.." he yawned silently, eyes closed.

"We'll see..." John smiled widely as he finally found himself drifting back to sleep once more, glad to have Sherlock so close to him, the younger was warmer than he thought previously.

"Wrong, John." Sherlock whispered when he noticed the older already asleep. He just needed to talk, to say so many things, so many things no one should know. "You will be gone for years. I won't remember.." he murmured, tracing his fingers over John's face, not touching. "When you come back, you won't even know you knew someone like me.. you won't come to search me.." he sighed softly, leaning to kiss John's temple, before he settled down again, letting the sleep claim him.

John didn't hear Sherlock speak as he left the real world for the world of sleep. Thankfully he was able to recieve another 5 hours sleep without any nightmares pursuing him. He stirred again, glad that he was waking up next to Sherlock and sleepily curled up to him, opening his eyes slowly to see a mess of curls in his face, he smiled, resting his head in Sherlock's shoulder.

* * *

Sherlock, feeling his surroundings shift, tightened his arms around the warm body next to his. He mumbled something from his sleep, before he settled back down, calm.

John smiled warmly and stayed still, not wanting to wake or disturb Sherlock but he desperatley felt like he needed a shower. Kissing the top of Sherlock's head, he gently prised himself from Sherlock and went to the bathroom while he slept, getting a shower. He returned a while later all changed and clean as he smiled at the man still in bed.

Sherlock smiled, having awakened when John left, but kept his eyes closed. He could see the light even trough his closed eyelids, listening to John's breathing, audible in the silent flat. "What is the time now?" he asked softly, without stirring or moving at all.

John checked his watch, "9:32" He smiled at the other, "Are you getting up or sleeping all day? I was going to go out on a quick walk. Get refreshed and stuff, y'know?"

"Letting me choose?" Sherlock grinned, "Then I will stay in bed whole day. Well, I should feed my babies later, but other than that, I am not leaving my bed." he announced in satisfaction, tangling the blanket more over himself now that he didn't have John to keep him warm.

"Alright then." John said fondly, going and putting his coat on. "I think I'm gonna take the tube and go to the park for a walk. Text me if you need me ok? Enjoy your sleep." He called as he walked out of the room, smiling. It was a nice enough day outside so there was no real reason not to.

Sherlock sat up as soon as he heard the door closing, stretching lightly, he moved in search of some pants and shirt, not bothering to wear trousers right now. No one was there, so there was no reason to. He sighed, absently wondering _when_ will John's organisation come find him, if they already paid a visit to Jim, and picked up all three of his rats out of the cage, laying them onto his shoulders. Sherlock moved into the kitchen and rummaged trough the corner of the fridge, finding a bowl with raw meat. He handed a piece to each of the rats, letting them munch happily on their respective positions.


	33. Guests and Graveyards

**Title: Of Rats and Men**

**Chapter: Guests and Graveyards**

**Place: London**

**Characters: John Watson; Sherlock Holmes; James Moriarty; Pet Assassin**

**Mood: Mourning; Moody; Joking**

**Warnings: uh..**

* * *

**The Duncan, Soho. Come and play? xx -OB**

As Sherlock reentered his room, the small young woman took it as her sign to quickly make her way silently up the stairs and into the living room of 221-B. She turned her head, looking around at the room and smiled slightly. Dressed in a black suit top and skirt, she scanned the room. Taking her phone out of the pocket, she proceeded to text John.

**You're going to be safe. I will eliminate the threat. -**

She smiled, putting it away; her personality surprisingly upbeat and bubbly considering her line of work. The girl looked in the mirror and tied her dark ponytail up a bit tighter before sitting down, waiting for the flat's resident to return to the room.

Sat down on the Jubilee line, John looked at his text. He had to have chosen rush hour? He was squashed inbetween two very loud speaking Northeners as he looked at the text and paled. Eliminate the..? Oh not again. Hopefully, Hopefully they were going after Jim but he doubted it.

**Sherlock, be careful! I just got a text from those people again. -JW**

**I seem to be quite busy right now, I do apologise. Got an uninvited visitor ;) those are always fun. -SH**

Sherlock sent it to the number Jim texted him from, automatically memorizing it as well. He looked thoughtfully towards the closed door, absently scratching one of the rats. The male shrugged and quickly put on his dark trousers and stepped into the living room, small smile playing across his lips. "Why hello there, how terribly _charming_ to see you." he mimicked a bow towards the woman, just barely catching the rat that fell off his hair.

"Hello." She said brightly, standing up from the seat and bowing back to him, hands on her thigh as a customary bow. As she stoof back up to full height, she was very very small compared to Sherlock, possibly 5ft 3 and her face was very young, the 'woman' possible still being in her early teens. "It's very charming to see you too, Mr Holmes." Her voice was bubbly and happy as she smiled playfully at him. "I like your pet. Has he or she got a name?"

"All of them do." Sherlock grinned, as always quite happy to talk about his pets. He reached into his shirt to tug up the two remaining rodents, before setting the back onto his shoulders. One of them instantly shot onto his back and down into his shirt, obviously quite happy there. "Do _you_ have a name?" he raised his eyebrows, scanning the other for every little detail.

"No, not really." She shrugged but put a finger to her temple as she thought, "Hmm.. how about.. Lily? Or Sora? Sora sounds kinda nice. Pepper?" The girl giggled slightly. "I think go with Emily. Nice and easy there. How do you do Mr Holmes?" Emily looked him over again, "I like your hair." She commented truthfully, "Sooo... what's those ones names?" She asked, pointing the one on his shoulder.

"That's a bit personal, don't you think?" Sherlock raised one of his eyebrows and moved to sit on his armchair. "Since you already know my name, why should I tell you the name of my little darling here?" he grinned playfully, reaching to scratch the animal's fur between it's ears.

"Oh right, sorry." She smiled, "They sure are adorable though. I always wanted a pet rodent. Never allowed." Emily giggled again slightly, spinning around. "D'you want tea Mr Holmes? A blanket or something?" She offered caringly and she scratched the back of her neck.

"No, thank you, I am just fine." Sherlock said cheerfully, "Now, why don't you sit down for a moment? There is no place to rush to.. Take your sweet time, I am sure your technique will prove much more inspiring that the one of your college.. He was quite a brute.." he sighed sadly. "Horrible mess, horrible."

"I just like my targets to feel nice and comfy before they die." Emily shrugged and sat down, guessing that she did have a lot of time. The organisation had secured the area so she would be ok.. hopefully. "Yeah, he was a bit violent. I kinda just like a nice clean shot. Saves the work for before. I'm a good shot. Did you see that um.. what was her name..? Sarah Sawyer? Yeah. That was my shot. Completely clean and dead before she hit the ground. I was quite impressed m'self." Emily smiled, toying with the pistol in her hands. "It's a shame my brother had to die though.. that wasn't very nice. That Moriarty guy really really went at his face. Really disgusting to be honest. If I fail and you kill me, don't let your rats eat me or something. That's really.. gross." As calm and as happy as she seemed, her hands tremmered slightly.

"But wouldn't it be nice to be part of the nature?" Sherlock let his smile form a half-smirk, eyes resting on her face. "You seem a bit unsure about this whole business, was Sarah Sawyer your first target?" Sherlock titled his head, leaning it onto his palm. "And I guess I can even thank you for that one. Made John available, you know.." he drawled.

"I'm not unsure about this at all, Mr Holmes." She smiled, looking up at him curiously. "Yes, Miss Sawyer was my first proper target. You're very welcome. I'm glad her death made more than one person happy."

"Oh no, not happy, per say." Sherlock waved it off. "Now, how old are you, if you don't mind me asking?" he raised his eyebrows.

"Oh right. Just pleased then? Relieved maybe?" She smiled, clinging onto his every word She had studied his case file for a long time and it was simply fascinating to meet and get to talk to her target in the flesh, the luxury she didn't get to have with Sarah. "14, Mr Holmes. You'll be surprised how easily I can get into bars and clubs though, even without the fake i.d."

"Not much surprised. People don't like to asks questions." he grinned, "I got married when I was just a bit over fourteen.. Mummy and Brother were furious when they got to know." he smirked lightly. "I suppose if I asked you about the organisation - _family_ - of yours, you would refuse to tell me, am I right?"

"Married?" She asked, surprised. "Are you still married now or did you get it called off?" Emily was genuinely interested in what he had to say. "It all depends on what you ask. If the information you are after does not compromise the organisation too much than yeah sure, I'll answer."

"Right. Who is the leader?" Sherlock grinned, "Just kidding. Don't answer that. You can't tell me; and I don't want to know. One thing, one thing doesn't quite add. Why John?" he leaned a bit forward, eyes narrowed as he watched the younger. "Answer that honestly, and I will answer one of your questions with the same honesty you offer."

A playful smile crept up to the corner of her lip as she sighed slightly, echoing the words that had been spoken repeatedly over, "He saved me once. I was only little, I was pushed off a pier when I was about 7 and he dived in and got me out. He saved my life and I owe John a debt." Emily rolled her eyes, playing with her gun once more. "That answer your question Mr Holmes? Because I really really have a question for you.."

"Do you realize, that the person he saved was a male?" Sherlock titled his head sideways, giving her an amused look. "Now, try again and we will see about the question."

"He saved me." She spoke clearly as if that was a truth, to her it was but not from John and not from the water. John saved the person and in turn the person saved me. Not from drowning no.." Emily smiled, "So as I say before. _He _saved my life, therefore I owe John Watson a debt." She added emphasis to try and make the man see that she was talking about another intirely. "So now that's outta the way. I have a question for you. Why John?" She smiled.

"Why _not_ John?" Sherlock grinned in delight, having expected that question. "He is caring and has a big heart. Big enough to like even _me_." he smiled. "So let me get this straight, as much as I can get _anything_ straight, if you forgive me the pun, John saved life of some guy and he created the organization, going around the world and saving other people's life. He bound those people - kids - to himself and now goes all out to protect John. Correct?"

"Well, he doesn't go out of his way to save people. He's not a superhero and that's definatley not the main point or focus of the organisation but yeah kinda. Roughly the idea." Emily grinned at his answer, "So you and John are a thing? Are you boyfriends?"

"Not really, no." Sherlock muttered thoughtfully, "Didn't have time to go out on a date. Probably won't either, hm?" he gave her a lop-sided smile. "Though really, isn't this a bit over the top? Killing everyone who _might_ be indirect threat to his life? Because I am neither direct threat and the only time when he was in danger _I_ was there to save him, but _you_ weren't." he smirked smugly.

"It's not me who makes up the rules or gets an opinion on things, Mr Holmes. I just do what I'm told." Emily smiled gently at him, "Sorry that you won't get to go on any dates with him. I think you're both very cute together." Her dark eyes went to her watch, "I'm a bit delayed already. Sorry Mr Holmes, this chat has been lovely though. They'll get mad at me if I take too long, besides John's on his way and you know what he's like. I don't want him to do anything stupid." She stood up from her seat and loaded her pistol in her shaking hands, taking the saftey off and her hands stopped shaking. Emily aimed the gun at Sherlock, "I'd say any last words - but that's horrificly cliche. Thank you Mr Holmes."

Sherlock closed his eyes, for a split of a second wondering what would change if he just let her shoot. John was going to leave and Sherlock was going to delete him as soon as he could. And then - then he will die, by Jim's hand, bringing the criminal with him - or the other way around, it didn't matter. But he still had three days. He snapped his eyes open and threw himself over the arm of the chair, using the furniture as a shield, grabbing hold of the rodent on his shoulder and throwing it towards the assassin at the same time. He breathed heavily, as he pressed himself to the ground, waiting if the rat managed to give a bite or not.

Emily shot the arm chair, quickly assesing what was going on and rolled sideways out of the way of the rodent, getting onto one knee and shooting the rat dead before it could get to her. Eyes wide and her breathing heavy, she got up and scanned the floor for anymore and saw none. "Now come on Mr Holmes.. it's easier if you co-operate." her tone lost her playfulness as she kept the gun still in her hand, making her way slowly toward the back of the chair.

Sherlock gasped for breath, fury rising in him as he watched the bleeding body of his pet, and tightened his fingers around his own gun. He stood up smoothly, knowing that slow and fluid motions were less probable to attract attention, and emptied his whole magazine into the girl, not caring one bit that she was shooting back.

Shooting back, her finger locked tight to the trigger even if she was being shot at herself. She managed to shoot Sherlock multiple times but failed to do so to any vital areas. Sherlock's bullets, had hit her in the side and in the ribs, she fell to the floor, bleeding but not dead; yet soon to be. Tears flooding the girl's eyes, she weakly reached for the gun again yet knew it would be empty. She could feel her blood leaving her as well as her tears, the blood rising in her throat. "I didn't..I..didn't want to.." he hands shook, one still clenching firmly to the gun despite her weakening.

The male collapsed onto the floor himself, already feeling dizzy from the blood loss. His eyes softened when he heard her speak up and forced himself to crawl to sit next to her, laying his palm onto her hair soothingly. "I am sorry.." he mumbled, stroking her bloodied hair as more of his own blood dirtied both of them. "I wouldn't have.. _killed_ you.." he choked on the word, "But you.. y-you.. you killed her.." he felt his body shuddering violently, cold from both the blood loss and shock.

The tears continued to fall from the young teen's eyes as he looked at Sherlock, her own body holding out no better than the other's. She looked absolutley terrified of their circumstance despite all her training. They would die if they didn't get treatment soon, if not Sherlock then Emily definatley would. She felt the blood come up through her throat as she coughed violently, the blood running down her chin against her pale skin. "I-I'm so s-sorry..! I'm sorry.." Emily cried as she shook, coughing more.

"I don't know what to do.. to help you.. I don't... John would know.." he murmured desperately, fingers tightening in her hair as he saw the whole room spin in front of his eyes, making him dizzy. Sherlock closed his eyes tightly to fight off the nausea, but opened them instantly when it got even worse. "C'mon.. tell me.. tell me.. what t' do.." he whispered.

John's heavy footed footsteps ascended the staircase of 221-B, "Sherlock?" He yelled, "Sherlock are you ok?" John half expected to see the room empty and Sherlock still lazing in bed but the sight of Sherlock convulsing and bleeding heavily on the floor was not what he was expecting. "Jesus.." He went over immediatley, feeling faint but knew he had to keep calm. He had been training in trauma..he knew what to do. He turned Sherlock properly onto his front, "It's ok Sherlock..it's gonna be o-" John stopped when he noticed the crying little girl next to him, looking in an even worse state. "Shit. What the hell happened?" John almost yelled, feeling overwhelmed. "Need to call an ambulance.. I can't.." He looked at Sherlock, putting the phone down and sprinted for the first aid kit.

Sherlock felt himself irrationally amused, letting out a silent chuckle, even though it hurt like hell. He turned his head sideways, searching for the girl's eyes. "I promise.. he is better.. doctor then he.. then he looks like." he grinned trough the daze, finding that when he was concentrating on her only, the spinning was a bit more bearable. "Though now.. you can say.. that he saved you.. also.. and not only.. not only your boss.." he muttered silently.

She looked at the incredible man through half closed eyes, coughing blood still and one hand clutching her pained side. "Really..really ironic." She felt her shaken lessen only as she grew weaker. "I don't think..I d-" Emily cried, the tears rolling down her cheeks, merging with the blood.

John returned as quickly as he could, trying to be as professional about it as he could. He took Sherlock's shirt off, unbuttoning it to look at where the bullets had gone in and he proceeded to treat him to the best of his ability with the little medical equiptment he had.

When Sherlock was stable and John had stopped the bleeding the best be could, he kissed the top of Sherlock's head, ignoring the girl. "You're gonna be ok now."

Sherlock jerked from his half-asleep state when he heard John talking and snapped his eyes open, staring at the older with his eyes wide. He looked at the girl next to him, trying to say something, but no words came out of his mouth. He grimaced at his own inability to talk out loud and looked back up at John desperately.

John sat Sherlock up gently, supporting his back with his arm. He was surprised by Sherlock's lack of words but guessed that it was most likely that the other was in shock. John glanced at girl, she was still alive but barely. He guessed that she sent the text and shot Sherlock, he wouldn't treat her after trying to kill him. No way. With her bloodied hair covering most of her face, he didn't get to see how young she was. His focus was on Sherlock and to make sure he was ok and that he stayed awake.

"John.." Sherlock frowned and weakly tugged at the male's hand. "Save'er.. don' wanna be mur'er jus' yet.." he managed to get trough his protesting vocal cords and closed his eyes again, though he remained awake to listen to the older. "Hu'y up.." Sherlock urged him, trying to push him away.

"Sherlock.. " John sighed slightly, /What the hell was he going on about?/ "She just bloody tried to kill you.." But he could hear it in Sherlock's voice that he wanted her to be helped. "Just stay awake, Sherlock. Ok? I know you'll want to sleep, just stay awake." John made his way to the girl, turning her over and pushed the mess over hair out the way. She was crying? /Jesus fucking christ, how old was she? 8?/ He quickly tried to treat her the best he could but it was difficult, her being weak already.

After a while, he managed to keep her stable and turned to look at Sherlock, seeing that he was ok. "You need to go to hospital..." He looked worriedly at Sherlock, "She'll be fine for now but the bullets are too deep and one's hit into her lung. Won't have long without going to hospital but I don't think taking her is a good idea." John turned his back to her as he tried to keep Sherlock upright.

"'m not goin'." the younger muttered firmly, he used John's body as a leverage as he crawled to sit up with his back leaned against the side of the sofa. "'n safe 'er." Sherlock forced his eyes open and found his dead pet on the floor, already cold as he cradled it in his palms. He curled in on himself, holding the small body to his chest, as he shook with silent sobs.

"Sherlock..." John was surprised to say the least and Sherlock's reaction to a rat dying. Just a rat? People who said he was heartless, himself even - if they saw him there they'd be proven wrong. Not wanting to but having no choice in the matter, John sat the crying girl up, helping her onto the armchair with the bullethole. "I'll go and get blankets or something.." John spoke as he walked out.

The girl was still shaking as she looked at Sherlock, "M-mr Holmes..I'm sorry about your pet. I..I thought it was going to hurt me.."

"She woul've kill'd you.." Sherlock sniffed silently, letting his hands with the rodent fall down into his lap. "So be ca'eful.. those two're still he'e.. ran off.. when we star'ed shootin'.." he muttered, eyes closed again since that helped him to ignore the pain and nausea.

She nodded gently. She knew she was going to be in more trouble now. If she left without killing Sherlock then she would be hanged as a traitor yet she could feel it in herself that she wasn't going to last long at all. She wished there was just even one bullet left to put in her head and stop the overwhelming pain.

"I lied b-before. I do have a name." She looked sadly at him, feeling awful for killing the man's pet. "Eva.." The girl rested her head against the arm of the chair, trying to stop her head from spinning.

"'s nice.. t' meet you.." Sherlock battled for a smile, keeping his eyes closed. "Y'know.. you don' need t' go back the'e.. I cou'd send you to th' states... 've got a frien' the'e.. she might take you in.." he offered silently, forcing his eyes to open to watch the young girl. "She coul' teach you a lot.." Sherlock grinned lightly, even trough the pain finding amusement in the thought.

She smiled softly, despite keeping her eyes shut. "That's.. that's a nice offer M.. Mr Holmes but they'd fin.. find me. Easily.. but that's a nice offer." Eva opened her eyes slightly, fighting against the heaviness of her eyelids before closing them again.

John returned with a few blankets, giving Sherlock a gentle smile as he placed one around the younger. "How're you doing now? Do you need some water? Want me to take you to bed?" He had stop shaking atleast.

"No. Take care of 'er." Sherlock muttered silently, tightening the blanket around himself. "And 'ey wou'dn't.. She's on 'eir list.. an' Jim's list as 'ell.. noone can fin' 'er.." he added towards the girl.

Eva coughed again, the blood coming out more as John went over with the kit, wiping the blood and tears gently from her face. The first time she had actually seen John up close, the man she was meant to protect. She tried to speak but she was shaking too much to form a word. Instead she just grasped onto John's shirt, pulling him towards her as she buried her face in his chest.

He really didn't know what to do except put his arm around her gently, pushing the bloody strands of hair out of her face. He shouldn't be doing that. This person, no matter how old she was, just tried to kill the one thing he cared about most. He pulled away with a sigh, putting the blanket around her when she set her head on the arm again.

"I..hav..y'know those chips whic..which they put in dogs? They find.." Eva found it harder to speak, her words more slurred and found it hard to breathe between speaking.

"Small elect- electric shock.. shoul' be 'nough to dis- dis-activate it." the younger male said firmly, as much as he was able to, even though he was feeling a bit better than before. He needed water. And something to eat to regain his strength. But first he needed to explain to the stupid woman. "If you go back.. they'll kill you." he bore his eyes into her.

"I know.." Eva mumbled into he armchair, unable to say much more, feeling weak from bloodloss.

John had dissapeared into the kitchen to get the two patients a drink of water. He looked out of the window, frowning as he saw a couple of me stood outside not looking too friendly.

"I know you know." Sherlock chuckled weakly. He took the offered glass, his hands shaking, and dawned it in one go. He shivered as the cold liquid travelled down his throat, but knew that it will help with the dizziness. "The question is.." he smiled, noticing that he was able to talk a bit better already, "..do you want me to send you to her, or not?"

Unable to lift up her head, she didn't notice the drink as she tried to stay concious. "I'm not..coward." She spoke pained, coughing again. "But I'm very afrai.." Eva attempted to say. "I'm going to..going to die regardless. Why are you..?" She coughed again, "kind..?" She breathed, forcing her eyes open.

John sat her up right, she was as limp as a ragdoll.

"Believe me, I am not kind. Just don't want to be a murderer." Sherlock muttered silently. He set the empty glass onto the floor and managed to stand up, only swaying a bit. "The only person I ever wanted to kill in my whole life is Jim. No one else." he supported himself against the couch and crossed the flat into his bedroom, collapsing onto his bed with his cellphone in his hands.

**Going to visit the graveyard. Want to join? Though I will be dreadful bore; want to bury my pet. -SH **He sent it to Jim's new number, haphazardly throwing his bloodied clothes away in favour of putting on clean ones.

She watched him leave before closing her eyes again. John tapped her face, forcing her to stay awake. "No..." She grumbled sleepily as she opened her eyes back up at the man.

"I don't want to help you but I have a moral obligation to do so. I don't like you or what you do or represent but I need to help you. Stay awake and drink this." John said quietly, passing her the glass but realised she couldn't hold it so poured in gently into her mouth. He set the glass down and wiped her mouth. "There, you're gonna be ok."

**Busy. Why would I want to do something boring? -OB**

**No reason. -SH **Sherlock grinned and pocketed the cellphone. He moved back into the living room, hiding the fact that he was still feeling quite dizzy. Sherlock circled his arms around John's middle, pressing a light kiss to his jaw. "Going out. See you later." he murmured and crossed the room to the hall, putting on his coat and scarf.

John turned around to look at the leaving sillohuette, "Sherlock, you're not seriously going out are you? You got shot!" He yelled despite knowing Sherlock wouldn't listen. "Alright, be careful!" He sighed slightly, looking back at the girl, going to the first aid kit to treat her further.

**Actually... I'll meet you there x -OB**

"Don't worry!" Sherlock called, poking his head trough the doorway. He reached to get an apple, deciding that he should eat something to feel better. "I am meeting up with Jim, he won't let me die. That would be soo boring." he rolled his eyes and manoeuvred himself to put on his shoes, even though he was bit unstable and cradling the rat in his hand.

"Don't end up shagging each other in someone's grave or something.." John smiled, watching him. "Be careful, yeah? I don't want you back in a worse state than you already are." He quickly went and gave a quick peck to his cheek before retreating into the kitchen, putting the kettle on.

"Don't really want to shag anyone right now." he rolled his eyes, closing the door behind himself. Sherlock flagged down a cab, giving the address of the graveyard Jim wanted to meet with him on, the day before, his rat carefully hidden in his jacket. He reached for his cellphone sending a message to Jim.

**And now you are just being boring ;) -SH**

**I'm the boring one? Dear, you're the one wasting his time by burying a rat. Nothing boring about moi. xx -OB**


	34. Graveyards and Guards

**Title: Of Rats and Men**

**Chapter: Graveyards and Guards**

**Place: London**

**Characters: John Watson; Sherlock Holmes; James Moriarty**

**Mood: Cheeky; Cheerful; Childish**

**Warnings: Graveyard humour**

* * *

The long, darkhaired young 'woman' walked around the graveyard, unamused as he sent the text. His face was made up and his dark coat wrapped around him carefully. If a passerby had seen him, they would have honestly presumed he was a woman. Jim looked almost as effeminate as Irene as he walked carefully around the stone path. The criminal had fooled everyone he had come in contact with but knew this would be a highly amusing meeting with the other. He put the phone in his pockets, his nails perfectley painted and perfectley shaped. He liked to add a few details to his aliases.

**Can't help it; I liked her. John says we are not to shag in anyone's grave. Sounds fun, though. -SH**

Sherlock climbed out of the car, careful of his injuries, and slowly walked towards the gate. He was clad in black clothes, so he guessed no one should really question his intentions in the graveyard. He stopped for a moment when he passed quite short woman on the stone path, almost freezing in shock. Sherlock did a double-take, her walk painfully familiar, as was the position of her cheekbones and the shape of 'her' eyes. He didn't say anything, though, just moved to sit on the bench, whole body shaking with laughter.

**Very. Shame I didn't have the idea earlier xx. -OB**

Jim texted as he walked towards the bench, sitting next to the man and hitting send as he looked at him, a wide smile spreading on his pretty face, laughing himself. "Like the view?" His voice seemed natrually higher as well, as if he was Jim's twin sister.

Sherlock ran his eyes up and down the body; "Hmm.. Are you sure you have the legs for such a short skirt, ma'am?" he asked teasingly. "But at least I can stop wondering who is the man in yours and Bassy's bedroom." he chuckled, unable to stump his amusement.

"I think you'll find my legs are perfect, sir." He smiled, running a hand along his tight-wearing legs. Jim laughed, "We're both men in the bedroom Sherlock, one just more dominant than the other." He spoke in a breathy voice, laughing still.

"Though both of you like to impersonate women." Sherlock grinned. He stood up, looking down at Jim thoughtfully, "I hope your husband won't mind if I steal you for a dinner - _after_ I take care of my business here, though." He raised the bloodied cloth in which he carried the pet. "So either stay here or leave, I don't care either way."

"Of course not but I think you're mistaken. My only husband is my work." He smiled, his rouged lips curling upwards. "Of course. You have your rat. Go on, I'll be waiting here." He looked at the cloth then Sherlock before getting out his phone, leaning back on the bench.

Sherlock walked at a sedate pace, until he found a secured enough place. He fished out his knife and quickly made a small hole in the ground, sparks of pain running trough his body from his uncomfortable position. He gently put the body into the ground, sniffing, and pushed the ground back over it. "Sleep well.." he murmured as he stood up, not marking the improvised grave at all.

Jim typed away to a rather worried Sebastian. He hadn't spoken to him since he left the apartment and hadn't returned since. So sweet of him to be so worried. He smirked before looking up and watching the other return. "How'd the rat die?" He asked, raising a small eyebrow at him as he smiled.

"Shot." Sherlock formed a very fake smile in return. "Surely you have already deduced I was a part of some pleasant shooting party." he rolled his eyes. "Now, what about the dinner? Not that I am hungry, but right now I don't want to talk to anyone who could be _worried_ about me." he made a face at the word and offered his arm to the 'woman', rather gallantly.

"Had a little run in with John's fanclub and now he's doting over you like an old dear. How sweet." Jim smiled, taking Sherlock's arm gently. "You killed the bastard before they got too bad at you, I presume? I had good fun with mine. Kept the body too. Sebastian said it'd be good method for dealing with my anger. He's an idiot," he rolled his eyes as they began to walk, Jim's black highheels echoing against the pavement. "I'm not hungry either."

"So no dinner, unless we want to throw bits of meat at poor unsuspecting people." Sherlock mock-sighed, leading the way deeper into the graveyard instead of towards the gate. "So let us enjoy the beautiful scenery instead." he dropped his voice to match the aura of the place. "Any graves yours?" Sherlock raised his eyebrows at the male walking next to him, "Or don't your victims get their own place in ground?"

Jim giggled slightly, matching his persona as he clutched the taller man's arm. "Throwing meat at people does sound fun.." He spoke softly as he looked around at the tombstones. "Who knows. There's been so many. A lot from different people who have consulted me for help on murders but I don't know. Never really bothered to remember names but.." He grinned wickedly up at the other man. "I think Richard Brooke is buried here"

"Poor Richard. Never known him; yet he seems like a decent enough guy." Sherlock grinned as well, keeping the pace slow since he still didn't feel like running around, as they walked in between various tombstones. "Well, lead the way, ma'am." his grin only widened.

"You want to see it? Unfortuently I didn't get to go to the funeral. Richard's grandmother was there, apparently and Molly went along with the drama group he was a part of. Poor kid, he was really going places." Jim smiled softly, turning a path with Sherlock and walking a few paces until they got to the tombstone and stopped. "Oh, someone's put down flowers. Quite recently too." He laughed softly.

"Oh yes. Molly, poor, poor Molly." Sherlock grinned lightly, reaching to kneel in front of the tombstone to light up the candle. He stood back up heavily, swaying a bit, but quickly regained his balance. "I wonder what would she say.. if she knew her beloved boyfriend is now a woman. _And_ a stripper."

Jim clutched his arm, helping the man stay upright as he laughed, wiping a tear gently and glad his mascara and eyeliner was waterproof. "Oh, that would be incredible. Might pay her a visit, freak her out one night and come over as a ghost. She's stupid enough to buy it. Just can't stand her voice. Dear lord it's dreadful. Even worse during sex. She was pretty though."

"She is way smarter than any women I have ever met." Sherlock said silently, "Well, I don't count miss Adler.. Or you." he grinned. "But way smarter than anyone gave her credit for." he shrugged and tugged Jim to follow towards a bench.

Jim followed, clutching his arm still as they walked, he scoffed. "She's very good at playing an idiot then. Sure she'll make a good doctor or whatever she plans to do but she's so ordinary. I'm glad you came along when you did."

"Aw, poor Jimmy." Sherlock sighed and sat down, tugging the younger next to him. He visibly relaxed, not bothering to hide the sigh of relief since Jim would notice anyway. "So bored of playing with your puppets, so happy to meet another puppeteer. Surely Bassy had been entertaining enough?"

"I was. I am glad I have you now..shame I'll have to kill you. Burn you." He smiled gleefully at him. "Bassy..Well, he's entertaining slightly. But he isn't me.. Where you are." His smile was wide as his dark eyes bore into Sherlock.

"But you know." Sherlock waved his hand around carelessly, "To burn a person, you need to get really close." he leaned a bit forward, staring into Jim's eyes from the close proximity. "And there is no saying you won't get caught in the flames as well."

"Of course, there's no doubt about that." Jim smiled, looking into the others carefully. "A few scaldings here and there will be worth it though and even if I get consumed by the fire with you; it will have payed off." Jim's voice was soft yet passionate, he didn't take his eyes off Sherlock for a second.

"If I am entitled to an opinion, I would rather drown than burn." Sherlock made a comical face, "Burning is just sooo, so messy." he sighs theatrically. "So let's see if you manage to burn me before I drown you.. and visa versa."

"I'd like to see that..oh..oh so very much Sherlock. It's our final problem." He grinned before pulling away and laughed, being of an acceptable distance again. "Oh you do make me laugh." He moved a strand of his long hair out of his face.

"Can't wait." Sherlock commented dryly, but his eyes were swimming with amusement and delight. "But really," he followed the motions of Jim's hand on his hair, "What is it with you two impersonating women? I am thinking about trying myself, since you and Bassy are enjoying it so much." he grinned wickedly.

"I don't know. Maybe it's just a fantasy? I'd quite like to see you all dolled up. You could try straightening your hair." Jim laughed gently. "I'll have to come over some time when you've healed up and Johnny boy is out of the picture. It could be fun." Jim smirked, resting himself against Sherlock in mock affection.

Sherlock's eyes clouded lightly as he stared into the thin air, not really seeing the scenery, "If you promise you won't even mention John, then I will even buy some lacy clothes for you." he teased. Sherlock reached into his pocket and fished up a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, offering one to the other male.

"I don't even know who that man is." He grinned, "Oh now I really am looking forwards to that sight." Jim laughed slightly, shaking his head before taking a cigarette and pulling his own lighter out, cupping his hands around the end of the cigarette as he lit it. "I really hate graveyards. Dead people are boring people."

"Then why do you keep killing them?" Sherlock smirked and plopped one cigarette in between his lips as well. He grabbed Jim's wrist with the lighter and moved it to light it up, taking a blissful drag of the smoke. "The worst is, that sometimes the living people are just as boring." he added with a grin.

"It's very hard to find anyone who isn't boring. The stupid are better off dead." He said before taking a drag and sighed slightly, "You're not boring. Sebastian isn't and neither is Irene, despite not being in my good books right now. She beat up poor Bassy." A wicked smile crossed his lips. "Ordinary people can be fun to manipulate at first.. but like a video game that's too easy, there's no fun in it."

"I know at least one person I would prefer to talk to had he been dead." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "And you know, had I have my gun on me, I would have _killed_ your pet and not just harm him." he narrowed his eyes wickedly. "Even though I am saving my first kill to be you; I am sure I would have done an exception for him."

"Lucky you didn't.. I wouldn't be too happy if you had done that Sherlock. I think if you had done that, I would have killed your little pet regardless of what his fanclub would have to say about it." He frowned, taking another drag of the cigarette. "Your first kill is just like your virginity. It doesn't mean anything and you feel about the same amount of satisfaction."

Sherlock tossed his head back and laughed, the sound a bit roughed by the cold air attacking his throat. "There is a difference, though." he smirked wickedly, "I don't remember the name of the guy who took my virginity. I _do_ remember your name; and if end up being the first one I ever kill, wouldn't that make a difference?" Sherlock blew the smoke up above his head, watching as it curled trough the evening. 'But.' a nasty voice in his head piped up, 'If John doesn't save her; _she_ will be your first kill. And you not only don't remember her name, you don't even know it.'

"I suppose." Jim said, rolling his eyes. "I remember my first kill. When I was 13." He spoke bitterly. "He made fun of me. He laughed at me. So I got rid of him personally." He stubbed the cigarette out beneath his foot. "Person who took my virginity? Some bastard when I was 11."

"Might sound cruel; but if they didn't, you wouldn't be the same psychopath you are now." Sherlock was sitting comfortable, arms leaned onto the back of the bench, and stared up at the sky. It was slowly darkening, the afternoon surely making space for early night. "So I guess that makes me thankful, hm?"

Jim laughed in his reply, looking at Sherlock with pure glee in his eyes. "Doesn't sound cruel at all, dear. You're quite right. I wouldn't be sat here in my heels. Imagine how _boring_ life could have been. Makes me feel quite queasy at the thought of it." He added emphasis on the word as if it was almost derogatory or offensive.

"Oh yes, let's not forget your heels." Sherlock rolled his eyes, looking down at Jim's shoes. "Black, hm.. I think I will go for red. Or purple." he commented lazily. "You know; now I am really, really disappointed that you scared miss Adler away, I could have used her advice." the older smirked.

"Purple would be good. It's a good colour for your skintone. Blue too." Jim smirked, "Well, I'm sure you'rs still in contact with Miss Adler, the luxury I unfortuently no longer have. She'll come back to me though. She'll need daddy's help."

"'Daddy', now that's just plain kinky." Sherlock raised his eyebrows, "And what makes you think she wouldn't rather die in her own palace then come back to you to get killed?" he added, scratching his chin thoughtfully, "Well I am sure _I_ would choose the second alternative, more fun and all, but she is different." he smirked.

The young criminal laughed again, "Of course." He replied simply, running his hand through his long hair, enjoying the feel of it. "She'll need my consultation again. Miss Adler won't hide forever. She'll want security."

"Or she can just wait those five years till we kill each other. That would make her quite save, I say." Sherlock pointed out with a smirk and stood up. "Getting a bit cold and I still have few interesting people to meet. I trust you will be alive. Not safe, no, safe is boring." he gave a mocking half-salute, setting of to walk out of the graveyard.

"A bit cold? You're not the one in a skirt." Jim mused, sitting still. "Goodbye Sherlock." He smiled slightly, getting his phone out again, checking his messages.

Sherlock checked his phone as well, answering the work-related text, when he exited the place. He moved to walk towards the docks, knowing he had a person to meet there.

**Could you get the milk while you're out? -JW**

Jim left the graveyard around 10 minutes later, getting in a cab to Soho. He had a job to attend to after all.

**She's not doing well Sherlock. She says I can't take her to hospital but I'm going to have to. -JW**

**Take her to Barts. I should have brother's ID in the drawer. Don't let anyone but Dr. Michael Smiths to attend to her. He is trusted. Don't leave her alone for a second. No open shops on graveyard. -SH**

**Right ok. Not a problem. Be safe. -JW**

John went into the drawer and pocketed the I.D, put his jacket and shoes on quickly before picking up the blanketed girl and carried her in his arms down the stairs; it wasn't difficult as she was light. He hailed a taxi quickly and went to St, Bartholemews as instructed.

**Call if there is any problems, I can be there in twenty minutes with this traffic. -SH**

Sherlock frowned, worried, down at the cellphone. He really, really hoped she won't die. He stepped to the very edge of the ground, taking a deep breath of the cold air, coming over the river. He was early, that was good.

**Will do. -JW**

John brought her into the hospital and used the I.D, finally getting her to a private ward where Dr Smiths started to treat her.

Sherlock waited till his contact came, watching the water run off just in front of him. He exchanged instructions and information with the elder woman in rough French, a bit hesitant since he was barely fluent in the language. When she left, Sherlock looked up at the sky thoughtfully, sorting through the information he got.

**Going all right? -SH**

**He's taken her in for surgeory now. I think she'll be fine. You should come and get checked out. You got shot Sherlock! -JW**

**Feeling all better :) no need to see a doctor when I have one back at home. -SH**

**Alright then. Stay safe. -JW**

John smiled gently as he sat in the waiting room, resting the phone on his lap. As long as Sherlock was ok, everything would be ok. He really would miss him when he went away for training, as bizarre as that sounded.

**Can't promise that. I will stay alive. For now. That, I can promise. Should I go to the hospital? Have time now. -SH**

**The company would be appriciated :) -JW**

**You are using emoticons? Since when? Don't do that, it's creepy. -SH**

Sherlock grinned, though, and made his way back towards the main road to find a cab. He told the driver the address and made himself comfortable.

**I always use emoticons. :p I think i'll start using them more often - just for you :) -JW**

John smiled at the phone, shaking his head before going to the nearby vending machine to get some water then sat back in his seat.

**Feel free. It always makes me think of Jim. Though he would add 'xx' as well. Will be there in 15. -SH**

**Alright, no emoticons then. See you. -JW**

After around twenty minutes Sherlock finally crawled out of the taxi, frowning fiercely at the driver. He crossed the path and trough the main entrance into the hospital, walking towards doctor Smith's office. He paused in the doorway to the waiting room, leaning against the frame as he watched John, who had yet to notice him, with a smile on his face. "Hello sweetie." Sherlock grinned, when John finally noticed his presence.

"..Sweetie?" John raised an eyebrow with an amused expression before he decided just to go with it and smiled gently. "You alright? With the rat and everything." He patted the seat next to him, asking him to sit down. "Your side doing ok?"

"Pop-culture reference." Sherlock rolled his eyes and moved to sit down, legs up on the seat and crossed. "Buried her, lit a candle on Richard Brook's grave and Jim is now a woman." he summarized his afternoon.

"Since when do you do pop-culture? What was it, lord of the rings or something geeky like that?" John smiled, laughing slightly at his summary, still not over Rich's death. "Interesting afternoon, I guess. A woman? Like, he actually looks like a woman or just a bloke in drag?"

"Doctor Who, John." the younger grinned, bumping his shoulder into John's. "Jim? Looks like a woman. Very proper. Too short skirts with his wobbly knees, though." he teased lightly, muffling his chuckles into his palm. "What about the girl? How is it going?" Sherlock frowned, his face falling and turning serious, as he motioned towards the hospital room.

"Ah right. Only watched up to David Tennant. Lost interest otherwise." John smiled "Didn't think you'd watch normal telly." He bumped the other back before laughing, "Oh god, really? Short skirt. I'd kill to see that. I don't know what on Earth he is planning.. must be really dedicated to it or just loves to look feminine." John's smile dropped slightly as he looked to the hospital room also, "She was convulsing really badly back at the flat. She started shaking violently and coughing up blood and stuff, wasn't nice. Got her here in time though. Dr Smiths says that the bullet went into her lung but she should be fine after surgery." He took the other's pale hand and smiled slightly, "You're not a murderer yet."

"At least something, since I am not a virgin." Sherlock snorted, remembering the conversation he had with Jim. "Oh he makes an interesting woman; would love to see him in work." he smirked, though his eyes were trained at the closed door. He sighed, deciding that there was no reason to worry right now; nothing to do with the situation till the girl is up on her feet. "And Gregory would usually force me to sit down and watch with him, if I was too annoying for him.." he trailed off with a shrug.

"Not a vir-? Never mind." John smiled, listening to Sherlock talk. "How did you and Greg meet anyways? Just from classes?" He asked, turning to look at him though the other's eyes were focussed on the door. "The men who go to his work are lucky then." John laughed slightly.

"Lucky." Sherlock raised his eyebrows, tearing his gaze from the door to look at John, "If they don't appreciate him, he will kill them. If they do appreciate him, Bassy will kill them. And me and Lestrade? Purely an accident. Long ago. I think I was six or something." he winced lightly; the first time in his life anyone offered to fight his fights for him. And carry him home on his back.

"Oh really? What happened?" John asked curiously. He found it hard to imagine the younger curly haired man next to him being 6 years old.

Sherlock made a face. "Ask him, I am not sharing embarrassing stories from my childhood. And anyway, we met that day, but I didn't see him again until few years later." he shrugged. "So it really doesn't count."

"Alright then." John smiled, looking at their hands and feeling pleased that the other hadn't pulled his away in revoltion or something. He looked back at the door, with a gentle smile. "You think Irene will help her out?"

"Not really 'help her out', no." Sherlock smiled a lopsided smile. "Miss Adler will merely take her to herself and teach her anything she finds necessary for the girl to became her.. pet. Helper. Bodyguard. Take your pick." he waved his hand carelessly.

"You really think so? She's only a kid. Well, a kid with ninja-like assasination training. You think Irene would make her her..pet?" He raised an eyebrow, "I guess it's good if she gets protection but I still think we should hand her back."

Sherlock snorted without any actual amusement, "That would be a murder, John, and I am sure you don't want to have blood on your hands.." he took John's hand into his both, turning it palm up. He grazed his thumb over the lines in skin, "You have clean palms; don't change that."

"I'm going to bloody Afghanistan one day, Sherlock. I doubt these hands are gonna stay clean..That girl wouldn't hesitate to kill you, why not show the same for her?" John looked up at his eyes with a gentle sigh. "I don't want to be a killer. I'm not a fighter."

"Just being cliché here." Sherlock shrugged, "Jim said that first kill is just like the first fuck." he grinned fleetingly, "And I want my first kill to be Jim. Or Bassy, if I can't help it. Not some kid I don't even know the name of."

"Really..?" John thought about it with a small smile, "So shooting some soldier will be the same as some awkward fuck with the weird girl who sat opposite the window in biology?" He looked down at Sherlock's longer hand with a fond smile. John's had was littered with different scars and marks on his skin from different accidents he had as a kid. Sherlocks looked like he had a few burns, otherwise it looked perfect to John's eyes, like the rest of Sherlock.

"Yes. Only it's not girl. It's not biology class and it's not one person. You are going to get pretty fucked up out there, aren't you?" Sherlock raised his eyebrows with an easy grin. "And anyway - what are we waiting here for? If she's still alive, we can as well leave."

John laughed, grinning. "Most probable. You hear all sorts of stuff about soldiers with PTSD. Dad had it bad when he came home from Bosnia." He smile lessened slightly as he took a sip of water. "Yeah, you're right. Come on then." He stood up, letting go of Sherlock's hand.

Sherlock followed after him, plopping a cigarette in between his lips as soon as they left the building. He lit it up and took a drag, the nicotine helping him sort trough the things he knew. "You will go to sleep and I need to do an experiment when we get back." he exclaimed, more to himself than to John, "And you should probably heed out tomorrow and buy the things you are supposed to have with you on your training. And you _could_ take me out on a date tomorrow." he raised his eyebrows at the older male.

John frowned at the cigarette but nodded as he listened to Sherlock speak, agreeing with him until he shot his head at the other, raising his eyebrow. "I thought..I thought you didn't do dating. You've mentioned that a ridiculous number of times." A bright smile spread over his face before putting on his normal demeanour. "Yeah sure. Might as well." He laughed softly, stifling a yawn.

"Not going to force you or anything." Sherlock commented dryly and finished of the fag, putting it of with his heel. "But you leave the day after tomorrow and I was supposed to die today." he shrugged. "Might as well try it once." the younger moved to the available cab and climbed into the front seat as he wanted to take different route back, and needed to give the instruction to the driver.

"It's a date then." John grinned as he got into the back of the cab, looking out of the window with a smile on his face. His eyes lingered to the back of Sherlocks head, knowing he would miss the man a lot when he was gone, but he knew he'd never forget him.

Sherlock's path took them around two minutes longer than the usual would and he stepped out of the cab, satisfied with what he saw along. He quickly paid the man and jogged up the stairs, deep in thoughts. It was a bit like playing with jigsaw - he obtained three new pieces today, but every one of those was from different picture. And even though the whole pictures will be only another pieces of the final photo, for now he was sated with playing the small games. For now.

John left the cab after a nod of thanks to the driver and went upstairs in his own pace, he was in no real rush. John went to his room to change as his clothes were still bloodstained. John just changed into a pair of tracksuit bottoms since he knew was going to bed and he prefered sleeping without a shirt. He brushed his teeth and then just went to bed, letting Sherlock crack on with whatever it was he was doing.

The younger just amused himself with acid and matches, until he was sure John was asleep. Then he called Lestrade. Almost an hour and three minor explosions - due to Sherlock's slowed down reflexes - later they finally came to an agreement and Sherlock pocketed the phone with a sigh of relief. Gregory agreed to lend him a hand. He will come the afternoon John leaves. Sherlock sneaked into the bedroom and moved to sit next to the older, tying and untying a ribbon in his fingers.

Being the lightsleeper, John turned over sleepily to look at the other, waking with a start. "Sn'wha-? Ohh Sher'ock..what you doin'?" He asked, yawning slightly as he moved to curl up to Sherlock, still half asleep.

"Sitting. Breathing. Thinking. Take your pick." Sherlock rolled his eyes, but shifted so that he was more comfortable next to the older, moving his hand into his hair once again, when he was unable to resist. "How are you still so warm?" he muttered more to himself, feeling his fingertips warm up just from the barest contact.

"I have built in central heating. It's Watson thing.." He muttered, smiling happily yet sleepily as he buried his head into Sherlock's side. "I can't help being so goddamn hot. Why I'm a babe magnet." John scoffed, laughing slightly.

"Yes, that you are." he quickly glanced at the screen of his cellphone. "The girl should be now being handed over to my brother. She will be by miss Adler in twenty hours.." he murmured silently. "She was the one who killed your precious girlfriend, by the way."

John's sleepy smile faded and he clutched Sherlock's shirt, head hidden in the younger's side. "You didn't tell me that.. Sarah wasn't my 'precious' girlfriend, Sherlock.. She was just a girl I dated briefly." He yawned gently, "Are you busy now?"

"Of course I didn't tell you. Revenge is very sweet aspect of human life." he murmured, "Not busy, no. Though I should probably text Irene.." he grinned sheepishly, when he realized the Woman didn't know anything about his plan.

**Small stray assassin on her way to you; mind taking her under your wig, miss Adler? -SH**

"Good..then lie down.." John put his arms around Sherlock's waist, not letting the other leave at all. He knew he was being almost childish but he just didn't want to miss a second he could possibly spend with the other before he had to leave.

Sherlock made a face, but scrambled down until he was level with John, sighing softly. It was _nice_ to have John's arms around him, Sherlock noted to himself thoughtfully, his own arms cushioned on the blanket between their bodies.

"Thank you." John smiled widely as he rest his head on Sherlock's chest rather than his side. "You are _really_ warm..warmer than you think."

"Right now, maybe." the younger shrugged, his breath growing a bit shallow with the added weigh over his sore chest. "Don't feel that way, though.."

"You're always warm..it's nice." John mumbled, "You're like one of those greek statues or summin'.. Like perfect.." He admitted with a slight yawn, closing his eyes. "You should sleep.."

"Not sleepy." Sherlock grinned, "I am far from perfect, John.." he reached to trace the lines on John's face, adding them to his memory again and again, even though he knew he will just have to forget those as well, anyway. "If anyone is resembling a Greek statue, it would be you. Only bit shorter. And much warmer."

John laughed slightly, "Now you're just being silly.. A greek statue if it's a short ugly looking goblin thing. I agree about the warm thing though.." He kicked the cover off him slightly, feeling too hot. "You may be an annoyin' git sometimes but I think you're pretty amazin'."

"No, really.." Sherlock said seriously, "You are built, you could as well be an Olympionist at the old Greece. Not a gladiator, no, you are way too kind for that." he grinned lightly, keeping his eyes open and trailed at the male.

"Didn't they run around naked in the olympic games? They'd do tug of war and running and all sorts completley starkers.. I'd pass." He laughed gently, feeling sleepiness take over him. "You'd be a philosopher or summin.."

"Nope. I would be a caesar." Sherlock smirked, ghosting his fingers over John's closed eyes. "I would watch the games. And enjoy it very much." he added, his hand travelling down over the man's chest.

John smiled widely, "Of course. You'd enjoy seeing naked men wrestle? I'd imagine your brother would be more like Caesar. He has the nose for it. You'd be more like Elagabalus, I know thats Roman but there's not much difference.."

"John, caesar is Roman as well." Sherlock pointed out with a roll of his eyes, "My brother enjoys being the 'shadow-king', to use the name. He would be a counsellor. The last one living from triumvirate."

"Is he? Oh right." John laughed slightly, "M' history isn't so good..I can name every king and queen since William the conquerer though.." He smiled, "Lotsa Williams. A John. No king Sherlocks though.. Shame.. Emperor Sherlock?" He laughed again, a laugh that was kind of mixed with a yawn.

"Just insane caesar. I liked Nero. He was very inspiring." Sherlock grinned delightfully. "Sleep, though. Lots of things to do tomorrow."

"He burned christians and homosexuals alive to make them into human candles.. He chopped his wife's head off to give to his girlfriend then he killed his mum.." John opened his eyes to look at him with a raised brow before smiling and shaking his head, closing his eyes as he cuddled up to Sherlock more. "N'nite then.."

Sherlock grinned and staid still, retreating back into his mind palace. He had John almost packed now, sorting trough the information he had on him, as not to let it spread trough his whole brain. He will manage, it will be difficult, but he will.

John drifted off back to sleep almost immediatley. Despite the calm he felt from Sherlock, he fell back into his nightmare. He clutched onto the side of Sherlock's shirt, burying his head into the man's chest as he slept. He could feel the pain in his chest rising up as the car pummeled into the side of the road. The car behind them smashed into the back, the vechicles on either side smacking into the red death trap with a deafening screech. The seatbelt was suffocating him and he gasped for air. John looked down, seeing the big hunk of metal through his side. Everything was quiet, except the small dripping noise of oil which filled the air. John cried out, being only 6 years old. He cried, calling for his mum as he escaped the tangle of seat belts, clutching onto the metal as he got a glimpse of his mother. Her blood dreched face was blank as she stared ahead, unseeing.

John cried out, looking for anyone and any help. Harry was gone, he was alone. He called for his mum to wake up but she didn't.

John clutched onto Sherlock, completely silent in his sleep apart from a few whimpers.

Sherlock jerked with a gasp from the depths of his mind, confused and disoriented since he didn't know what woke him. He quickly assessed the situation - John was clutching at him, but that shouldn't have woken him up. Sherlock narrowed his eyes. Johns knuckles were white, the grip a bit too tight. He was sweating and his heartbeat, noticeable against Sherlock's arm, was hurried and uneven. A nightmare? Possibly. The younger quickly shook him, eyes concentrated, trying to wake him up.

John woke with a start, eyes wide and alarmed, breathing heavily. He calmed down slightly when he saw Sherlock and remembered that it was just a dream. Just a memory. "Sher..Sherlock.." He breathed, hugging him quickly, reaffirming that he was awake. He pulled away from him, looking down.

"Go back to sleep." Sherlock murmured gently, shuffling flush against the older. "I am not having a psychological debate about nightmares and suppressed childhood trauma with you right now."

He had already fallen back to sleep before Sherlock had spoken, laying curled up against the other.

**You're sending me a kid? I've recieved stranger gifts in my time, I guess. -tW**

**It is more of a getting rid of her before she tries to kill me again; or gets killed by her organisation for not succeeding the first time. She will arrive to the town you mentioned when we met; please collect her. -SH**

Sherlock tapped the message quickly, holding the cellphone over John's head as not to bother him with the light.

**Alright then. I could do with a live-in. You heard that Jim is a woman now? He looks ridiculous. -tW**

**Met him. Long hair, short skirt; perfect stripper. -SH**

**I'm better ;) xx Though I guess he appeals to a different target audience.-tW**

**I would never take you for someone aspiring to be a cross-dressing stripper, so let's leave that to Jim, shall we? -SH**

**I meant just a normal stripper but whatever you say darling. Catch you later x -tW**

**I would ask you to kindly not use pet names, /please/. Also, I would appreciate if you informed me when the girl arrives. -SH**

**Alright then, don't have to get touchy about it. I'll text you. xx -tW**

Sherlock set the phone onto the bed next to him, his head titled a bit sideways so that he can watch the sky trough the window. Night. He always liked nights. And the time just before dawn, when no one is outside, even though that's the time when the air is the coldest, chilling to the bone.

John's sleep was easier than before, happy that he was safe, Sherlock was. Everything was ok. He woke about 10am, fidgeting slightly before opening his eyes. "Mornin.." John yawned, sitting up.

"Good morning." Sherlock said back, almost absently, as he had his nose buried in a book. "Slept well?" he raised his eyebrow at the older, lowering the book a bit down to be able to look at him.

"Yeah.." John yawned, running a hand through his hair, "You sleep at all..?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Not this time, no." Sherlock shook his head, snapping the book shut. He set it down onto the mattress, partly over his cellphone. "Good as well, realized few things."

"Oh really?" John asked, covering his mouth to yawn again, "What did you realise then?"

"Few things." Sherlock shrugged, "Nothing important.. Oh, I texted Irene. She seems curious about our baby killer." the younger grinned, delighted.

"That's good." John nodded, "Curious in a good way? She gonna take Eva under her wing?"

"I never expected miss Adler to refuse." Sherlock pointed out, "It gives her a very valuable source of information, not even talking about having someone who she can trust. A bit. Since they share the same enemy."

"Right, that's good that's sorted. Not a murderer. I need a shower.." John stood up and left the bed quickly, going into the bathroom.

Sherlock didn't comment, instead got back to his book. He held it hovering above his face, but didn't concentrate on the text, his thought instead wandering to the older boy.

John sighed as he got in the shower, letting the hot water fall over him. He hated nightmares, he just wanted to get clean again, get away of the sweat and paranoia. Usually, being so close to Sherlock stopped it. Maybe it was just a one off? Who knows. John cleaned himself and got changed into clean clothes, going to the kitchen to put the kettle on.

**The threat will be eliminated. -**

Again? Really? John sighed, more annoyed before making the tea.

Not leaving his bed just yet, Sherlock let the book fall over his face. He listened to John's movement around the flat. With a grin, he decided he liked it. That he liked John really living there, and not only visiting. It was nice.

"Sherlock? You want tea?" He called to the other room as he stirred the milk into his, adding sugar. Life here was very different to at the University. Very different. Good different. He was looking forwards to his future army career though, it's something he had always wanted to do.

"No!" Sherlock called back, the grin still present on his face. He scrawled of the bad and quickly put on his 'out' clothes; meaning the clothes he knew he could get dirty and just throw them away if necessary. "Going out!"

"Alright. I'm going out too later. Just be back by 6!" He called, sittinng down in the chair with his tea. He sighed slightly, picking up his phone and scrolled through messages.

"Why six?" Sherlock poked his head trough the doorway, confused. He absently scratched at his arm, feeling his skin itch. Ah, cold turkey. He had been expecting it.

"Our date remember." John smiled up at him from his phone before taking a sip of his tea. "Don't tell me you've forgotten already?"

"Oh do keep up, John. Why _six_?" he repeated the question with a roll of his eyes.

"I don't know. Just a time. Not too late, not too early. Why, did you want to go out later?" he asked, looking at his phone.

"No, it's fine." Sherlock shrugged and backed out of the room. "At six then. Don't kill me if I am late.. I sometimes have a bit problems with time.." he said sheepishly even as he slid into his jacket, getting ready to go out.

"I won't, don't worry." He laughed gently, "Have fun." John rolled his eyes, taking another sip of his tea.

Sherlock nodded and stepped out of the flat, once again ready to get to work.

**How's it going, loverbirds? -GL**

**Loverbirds? Could ask you the same thing! How's Molly and you? She ok? -JW**

**She's fine. Went to C some horrid mushy movie tgthr. With sparkling people. Nightmare. Don't try not t answer d question, tho. Can C right tru. -GL**

After only really texting Sherlock, he had forgotten all about Greg's usual use of text speak and almost found the older's message impossible to decipher.

**Speak properly! Are you and Molls a thing now? If you must know, Sherlock and I are going out on a date. -JW**

**I thought he wuld ask u. U leav tmrw, its d last possibility for him. Yup, me & Molls r dating. -GL**

**Fuck urself! :) -GL**

**Are you drunk? -JW**

**Congratulations btw -JW**

**Nop. 2lazy to write rite. -GL**

**So wat will u do on the weekdays off? -GL**

**Go to London? Idk. Study most of the time I guess. -JW**

**Key. I'll tell u where I live when I get a flat :) u can stay by me, will be fun. -GL**

**Sounds good. Thanks Greg. Talk to you later? Heading out now. -JW**

**Yup. Just let me now later wen do u have d 1st weekend off :) -GL**

**Thanks. Really appriciate it mate. -JW**

John got up from his seat and put his phone in his pocket and the teacup in the sink before going into his room and getting his case. He looked through his list of what he still needed to get and shoved it in his pocket. John put his shoes on and his jacket before heading out of 221-B and took the central line to get his things.

Greg stared blankly at the open text-book in front of him. So John had agreed to come visit _him_, without questions. Without any hesitance. Did Sherlock already tell him? Or did John just not want to visit him on Baker Street when he gets to go to London? The male sighed, dropping his head into the book with a loud groan. He just didn't understand anything lately.

After a more than busy day of getting the last things he needed for his training, John returned to Baker Street. It was half four by the time he put the kettle on. He looked around the flat for a while, curious to see why Sherlock chose this for his place of residence over any other place in the world.

**If home, feed my pets, please. Meat in the fridge, blue bowl. -SH**

**Do I just put the bowl in the cage? -JW**

He was aprehensive at first but got the meat from the fridge and found the blue bowl, putting it in.

**Might be wise. -SH**

**Thank you. -SH**

**Not a problem. x -JW**

He set his phone down, going over to Sherlock's room and looked cautiously at the cage, quickly opening the door and placing the bowl inside. John stepped away, closing the door quickly. "There you go." He sat on the bed and watched the rats with a gentle smile before lying back on the sheets, burying his head. They smelled of Sherlock.

**All done. x -JW**

**Are you free now? We could meet earlier. -SH**

Sherlock had already finished everything he needed to, for the afternoon. He would have to go into the streets again, the next day evening, bur right now, he was finished. He aimed his steps towards his acquittance's flat, intend on getting a shower there and stealing some clean clothes; if he wanted to meet John at Angelo's, there was no reason in going back into the flat.

**I'm free. Sounds good. Where? -JW**

He smiled gently as he removed himself from the sheets, knowing he'd miss the genius a lot. Which was stupid since he thought Sherlock wouldn't care about his absence in the slightest.

**Angelo's. Be there in ten. -SH**

**Alright. -JW**


	35. Horrors of Hospital

**Title: Of Rats and Men**

**Chapter: Horrors of Hospital**

**Place: London**

**Characters: John Watson; Sherlock Holmes**

**Mood: Thoughtful; Tired; Troubled**

**Warnings: nothing...probably..**

* * *

Ten minutes? John went to get up but fell off the bed. With a small groan, he got up and changed his shirt, got his shoes and jacket on before leaving the house and getting a cab, managing to get there in time.

**Brilliant. :) -SH**

Sherlock amused himself for the ten minutes by lurking on the opposite side of the street, watching people pass. He deduced their life choices from their steps, finding the challenge quite entertaining, until he saw the familiar figure step around the corner and towards the pizzeria. He briefly wondered if John would notice him and waited, partly hidden in a doorway.

10 minutes to get there, and he's not even bloody here. Great. He looked into the resturant but saw no sign of Sherlock so instead he waited outside, checking his phone.

**Where are you? -JW**

He looked around for the younger man, seeing no sign of him.

Sherlock rolled his eyes at the message and stepped out of the shadow, quickly crossing the street - careful as not to get hit by a car - to where he saw John standing. "Been here for quite a bit." he shrugged, stopping to a halt next to the older male.

"Could have been somewhere more obvious, Batman." He smiled apon seeing the man, "Had fun lurking about then?" He removed his hands from his pockets, looking up at the other.

"Why should I?" Sherlock titled his head, teasingly. "Though I could have waited few minutes longer.. would you start breathing fire, if I did?" he grinned.

"The whole of London would have been ablaze." He grinned, laughing slightly at the thought. "Well at least we're both here now." John shrugged, "Get much work done today?"

"Quite a lot. Though I angered a contact of mine.." the younger shrugged a bit sadly, but waved it off. "Well? Are we going to stand here all day?"

"Angered..? You alright?" He asked slightly concerned before nodding and stepping into the resturant, holding the door for the other.

Sherlock skipped into the restaurant, wide grin on his face, and led the way to a more secluded area. He sat down onto a chair in the corner, waiting for John to join him. "Just a bit. Had to refuse his.. pleasantry. It was rude, but necessary. For today." he shrugged.

John followed the taller, sitting down and putting his jacket over the chair. "Pleasantry..?" He asked, curiously.

Sherlock mimicked taking a drag from a cigarette and brushed his fingers over the vain on his arm, all the while keeping his eyes locked with John's. "Didn't want to be high today." he shrugged.

"Ah. Right." John nodded, glad that the other had refused. "I'm glad you're alright though. My day must seem very ordinary in conparison to yours."

"Nothing dangerous about today. Just filthy. Had to wash my hair, before I came here." Sherlock shrugged again. "Bought everything you needed?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

John listened to him with a gentle smile, "Yeah. Got everything now. I'll head out tommorow. To see dad and Harry before. Got everything but the haircut. I'll get that there. It'll be interesting." He said, almost enthusiatically.

"Of course it will be." Sherlock agreed absently, eyes distant and thoughtful. He snapped from the thoughts, looking at John over the table. "I apologise, though - I promised brother to spend weekends with him in Cardiff." Sherlock's eyes narrowed a bit as he lied, "I will have to leave you to the deplorable company of Gregory when you come back from your training."

"That's more than fine." John nodded, listening to Sherlock's words, looking down at the table before back at the other, "Didn't really expect you to put up with me. Greg offered anyways, which is nice. It'll be every other weekend I thin but who knows." He shrugged, a little saddened that he wouldn't be able to see the other anymore but he wasn't surprised.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the mention of Lestrade, "What did Gregory have to say about that anyway?" he asked carefully, afraid that the male let anything out. He didn't want John knowing anything about his plans, after all.

"He just said I can stay with him when I come down to London, when he gets a flat." John shrugged, looking out the window then back at Sherlock. "Why?"

"Just curious." Sherlock whispered, relieved. He watched as Angelo bounced to their table, and gave him a bored look. Roses. Huge, velvet roses. In a vase. Sherlock sighed, pushing the vase sideways to at least be able to see John still. "Coffee for me. Pizza and white wine for him." the younger titled his head to indicate John, ordering for them both.

John looked slightly awkward, looking at the flowers before looking out of the window again as they were moved out the way. He cleared his throat before giving Angelo a small polite smile, not speaking again until he had left. "You're not eating?"

"Not hungry. Don't mind Angelo." Sherlock grinned fleetingly, "Does that to everyone. Just be lucky he didn't bring candle as well. Or paid a violinist to come play for us." he sighed, quite amused at the italian man.

"I'm guessing he likes to go all out for romance then?" He raised an eyebroe, amused. "Won't find much here, but why dissapoint the poor bloke?" John teased slightly, lip quirking upwards.

"We _are_ on a date, aren't we." Sherlock scoffed for a moment, watching the older man carefully. "So we are probably the first ones he got right."

"A lot can be meant by the term 'date'. God knows what it means with you." He smiled gently at the others comment. "Probably. Lucky for him."

"Why do you think it means anything weird?" the younger frowned, feeling torn between irritated and hurt. "I just wanted to go out on a date with you, once in our lives, since you are going to leave tomorrow and never come back." he snapped.

John was surprised by Sherlock's reaction to what was only a small joke. "I just..I don't know what's going on in your head half the time. I know what you mean.." He sighed slightly, looking down. "I am going to come back, Sherlock. It's not like this is a death sentence. I will come back. We can have more dates. As many as you want but.. I'm guessing that'll be none. Since I get the impression you're not wanting to see me again."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "You have a contract for _twenty_ years, moron." he whispered fiercely. "What do you think will be left of us after twenty fucking years?!" the younger fought hard not to raise his voice, gritting the words trough his teeth.

"Normal doctors can stay at one hospital for over 30 years, Sherlock. They have normal lives outside their jobs. As can I. Just because the uniform's different, doesn't mean I won't or can't have a life." He tried to explain calmly, slightly hurt by Sherlock calling him a moron. "Just means I'm garunteed of a career for 20 years. It's more insurance than a sentence. I can have a life." He tried, almost pleading with Sherlock to see his view.

"Oh I do apologise for misunderstanding." Sherlock rolled his eyes, his voice dripping with acid. "I didn't realize being holed up in Iraque or wherever the hell are you getting shipped off to, is considered 'having a normal life outside of your job'." he stood up, jaw clenched. "Give me a minute. Need to use the restroom." the younger crossed the restaurant, disappearing into a back door.

John opened his mouth to argue back but he just sighed, resting back in his chair and let Sherlock leave. He rest his head in his hands when the other had gone. The last night with Sherlock Holmes, spent arguing. Typical really. He sighed, rubbing his temple before sitting up properly. The italian man returned with a candle, grinning from ear to ear, placing their drinks on the table. John gave him a fleeting polite smile and the man left him alone.

Sherlock hopped up to sit in the window, smoking a cigarette. Then second. Third. After the fourth one, he sighed and moved down, wiping his face with the cold water. He briefly considered just running for it - he had always hated goodbyes - but that wouldn't be fair, would it? So the male just took a look at himself in the mirror, tidying up his clothes, since he decided he wouldn't be able to do anything to make his face and hair look any less horrible, and calmly walked back into the restaurant. He slid onto his chair, without a word.

"Thought you had done a runner." He spoke, more calm than before now he had time to think. "At least you've had your little temper tantrum now. Your coffee's cold." John said without looking at the other, instead seemed fixated on pulling the cheese of his pizza with his fork.

The younger kept silent still, feeling that if he opened his mouth, he would just start screaming. He should have smoked one more. Sherlock reached to cup his hands around his coffee, the remaining warmth pleasant against his skin, as was the sweet smelling liquid tasty on his lips.

"I just don't know what you want me to say Sherlock." He sighed slightly, putting the fork down. John didn't _want_ to argue and didn't _want _to feel so angry at how childish Sherlock was feeling but couldn't help it. If the younger didn't support his decision it wouldn't change anything. He was signing the contract in two days time.

"Then keep quiet." Sherlock muttered calmly, successful in locking most of his emotions away from his voice. He watched Angelo bring him the ice-cream he had ordered when emerging from his smoking pause. It was chocolate. With strawberries. That was brilliant.

John finished his glass of wine, looking down at the table, deciding to stay quiet as suggested; worried that otherwise he would just scream and cry at the other for being such an idiot. Stabbing the pizza, having lost his apetite, John didn't say anything else.

Sherlock himself didn't say a word either, just swallowed a huge mouthful of the ice-cream when Angelo brought it. He was looking at the table in between them, feeling like a child told off with how he was afraid to look up at John. Sherlock brought up his feet to rest on the edge of his chair, knees propped under his chin as he balanced the bowl of ice-cream on those.

"Have you..got any plans or anything? Y'know, uh..what are you planning to do after I'm gone?" John asked, still not looking at him as if he'd get shot if he did at all. He was curious to know what the other was planning on doing.

"Yes." the younger said simply, before he put another huge bite of the ice-cream into his mouth. He watched the slowly melting sweat in the bowl, playing with the small spoon to busy his hands.

"Ok." John said, not saying anymore than that. If Sherlock was going to reply in one-word answers then so would John. He sighed slightly.

Sherlock waited five minutes in silence, the tense atmosphere getting on his nerves. He stoop up rapidly, looking down at his feet with his cheeks burning. "This is not working." he whispered, grabbing his coat and scarf from the back of his chair. "Don't write me." he added, turning to walk out of the restaurant.

"Sherlock.." John spoke, standing up and clutching the back of Sherlock's coat to try and make him sta. He felt like an idiot, every emotion welling up. "Sh-Sherlock don't..don't be like this.." He looked up at the other, "Please." John added.

The younger clenched his jaw, freezing on spot. He decidedly didn't turn around, knowing that if he saw John right now, he would just leap into his arms and stay there. "What do you want me to say, then?" he asked silently, careful not to let any emotion sneak into his voice.

"I..I don't know!" John yelled, his voice breaking slightly despite he efforts to keep his emotions under control. "Just..I jus.." He tried to think of somethig, anything to say. "Just..please. Don't leave.." He felt pathetic, reduced to almost begging. He didn't want things to change. He didn't want Sherlock to go. The tears started welling up in his eyes.

Sherlock didn't say anything, just turned around to sit back on his chair. He kept on staring at his hands, fingers twined together in his lap. He stayed silent, coat still draped over his shoulders.

John let out a shuddery sigh of relief, sitting down also. He tried to calm himself down. "You were just going to leave.. without saying goodbye. Just dumping me here like that.. with.. 'Don't write me'..." He shook his head slightly, running a hand through his hair.

"Saying 'goodbye' doesn't change anything." Sherlock commented. He kept his eyes down, watching John's shadow across the table.

"It does. It means a lot." He spoke as calmly as he could, finally looking at Sherlock. "You.. you don't have to go just yet. The night is young and so are we."

"That sounds like some horrible movie quote." the younger said dryly. He sighed. He had never known how to say goodbye. What should he do anyway? When he knew that he will never see John again and he won't even remember him. Hug him? Shake his hand? Sherlock sighed, his head hanging low.

"Subconsciously I think it may be." He smiled slightly, scratching the back of his neck. He didn't want this to be the end. He needed more time. He wanted more time with the other.

Sherlock nodded. He reached to get a hold of his melted ice-cream again, fishing out the strawberries with his sticky spoon.

"This is the last time we'll probably ever see each other properly, Sherlock. Even if we do see each other again in the future. That's.. that's the future and not the now. We won't think the same as we do right now, we won't feel the same way as we do right now. There.. are things that are still unsaid, things that I still want to say to you. I'm too much a prat to do it and you're hellbent on jumping out the window.." He leaned back in his seat, keeping his eyes on the other.

"Interesting. You managed to sum the problem up quite nicely." he commented dryly, finding his lap to be the most interesting place to watch. "What do you want me to say on that matter?"

John thought for a second, "What you're feeling. Honestly. I don't care if you're not an open book with your emotions. This is one time. Last time. You're never going to see me again so you're just talking to a ghost." He shrugged, crossing his arms.

Sherlock peeked his eyes up, finding that once he started looking at the male, he can't look away. "I fell for you when I first talked to you." he whispered, sighing. "It was the first time I ever even _liked_ someone, not even talking about.. love. I had never needed someone's attention this much. And what - we have been friends for two weeks? Dating for two days?" he laughed, without any humour. "I don't even know what I feel right now."

"So that's why you were so bloody annoying? Pretending to put shit in my drinks, playing jokes on me. Getting me pissed off and smashing your head in?" He smiled slightly at him, watching his features carefully. "Friends for two weeks. Best two weeks of my life so far. Minus the kidnapping, the slight torture, all the assassins and my best friend and girlfriend being murdered." Johns weak attempt at a joke just caused him to smile sadly. "I'm being honest when I say that. Out of the two weeks, these two days.. I don't know what I think about them. I..I just know that I like you. I like you a lot. More than a friend. Like I want to be with you. Like these years are gonna be hell.. I should be able to get over it. I know I won't."

"It will pass. You will be fine in a month." Sherlock said silently, fiddling with his fingers. "And 'Richard' was your best friend?" his lips twitched into a smile. "Now, that is quite interesting. You know.." he trailed off thoughtfully, wondering whether he should share the piece of information, "Jim said he saw you save the kid that day. That's why he got close to you, making up a disguise to do so. That was one interesting day for you."

John shook his head, conveying Sherlock's idea was false in the fact he'd get over him in a month. He sighed, "Really wish I hadn't save the kid now. Just lead to more deaths. Yeah.. even though I know now that it was just a character, just a disguise. That character really was my best friend. And that character is dead so therefore my best friend is." John shrugged. "One interesting day indeed."

"It was a good disguise. Much better than the one Jim showed me at first." Sherlock made a face. He felt his bad mood slowly leaving him, and that was good as well, right? He didn't really want to spend the last day with John like this. Arguing and distant.

"The annoying, shy gay guy?" He smiled, "Yeah. Now he's moved one step further to a cross-dresser. Crossdressing stripper at that." he laughed, feeling the tension leave thankfully.

"I didn't quite mind the 'gay' part." Sherlock smirked, pressing a chocolate-covered strawberry past his lips. "But the 'shy' part was really annoying. Honestly, he forced _me_ to be the one in charge." he mock-shivered in terror, sending a cheeky grin towards John.

John laughed, "Oh you must have really hated that. You're so submissive it's unreal." He teased, laughing again. John went to the bottle of wine and poured himself another glass. "But you _do _get shy people in real life. Just not shy Jims."

"Admit it. You love it." Sherlock stuck out his tongue at the older male. "And Jim was _giggly_." he added, disgust clear in his voice as he made a face. "That was horrible. Giggly and blushy."

"I told you, I'll cut that thing off." He laughed, smiling in response. Yes, he did love it. He groaned slightly, almost as disgusted as Sherlock was. "I've dated a few girls like that. Couldn't get a word in edge ways or hold a decent conversation without them giggling like a groupie."

"No sharp things in here. Unless you count my knife, and you aren't getting that one." the younger poked his tongue out again, just to prove his point. "Most of the girls are like that." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "You are just to dumb to notice."

"Could ask Angelo for another." John laughed, raising his eyebrow at Sherlock's defiance. "I've always noticed it. They were the worst in secondary school. I kinda just tried to look past that for any chance to just get laid."

Sherlock made a face at that. "Disgusting. Really. And Angelo wouldn't lend you one. He likes me. _And_ he likes his restaurant enough not to get it bloodied." he pointed out with a smirk.

"I was more of a prat as a teen and only thought with my junk. Went to the clubs every weekend with Rich." John shrugged, laughing, "I'll just have to wait til we get back then. You can keep your tongue in the fridge with the rest of the body parts you store away."

"But those are not mine." the younger rolled his eyes. "Though I _could_ kill you and stuff you into the freezer. Now that is a thought." he tapped his chin in thoughts, laughter shining in his eyes.

"I know a good few self-defense techniques and I did play rugby, Sherlock. I'd like to see you try." John laughed, drinking his wine. "I wouldn't bloody fit in the freezer, unless you chopped me up."

"I would buy larger freezer." the younger shrugged, fishing another strawberry. He popped it into his mouth, offering the next one to John. "And who says I would just attack you? I am quite good at distracting people."

"You really miss me that much, Sherlock?" He laughed softly, finishing his glass. "So much you'd keep me preserved? I'm touched." John grinned, resting his head in his hand. "So, how would you kill me then?"

"Eat the strawberry and I will tell you." Sherlock smirked, waving his hand where he was holding the piece of fruit over the table, drops of melted ice-cream making a trail on the wood.

John raised an eyebrow, immediately suspicious at the fruit before him. "..Why..? What have you done to it?" He asked, pouring himself the rest of the bottle into the wine glass. He smiled at Sherlock's comment though, taking a sip.

The younger scoffed, "Nothing. But suit yourself." he dumped the fruit back into his bowl with a frown. "I don't get how you drink that. It's disgusting." Sherlock made a face at the wine.

John took the fruit from his bowl and popped it into his mouth, eating the strawberry but put the green top on the side of his plate. "You gotta tell me now. That was the deal." He laughed slightly, giving him a determined stare before looking at his glass and taking a sip. "You wanna try some? It is pretty nice. It's a grown ups drink." He stuck his own tongue out.

"Gregory said the same think about beer and it's still disgusting." Sherlock retorted without missing a beat, giving the wine a look of disgust. "And I can either tell you right now, or show you when we get back into the flat. Without the killing, of course." the younger smirked smugly, challenging the older.

"I'd prefer to be shown. I'm an idiot after all." He smiled, accepting the challenge with a grin. "I guess it's just a personal preference with taste. I can't stand coffee." John went back onto the topic of drink easily, the smirk still on his face.

Sherlock looked him up and down in thoughts, before he grinned as well. "Very well. I shall show you later, then." he promised, taking a demonstrative swallow of his coffee when John mentioned it. "Coffee is brilliant. Beer is disgusting, as is white wine. Never tried red or pink wine. Don't even want to." the younger shrugged.

He made a disgusted face at the coffee, "I can smell it from here." He laughed gently, taking a sip of his wine. "Red's better than white in my opinion." John spoke, smiling happily still at the change of environment glad he had stopped Sherlock from leaving. "You don't know if you like something until you try it."

"So? I will just live happily with my coffee and cigarettes. You keep your wine to yourself." he shrugged again. Sherlock reached to get a strawberry, noticing only three of those left. Such a shame. He smirked when an idea hit him and pressed the fruit against his lips, tongue darting to lick the melted ice-cream from it, as he watched John trough his latches.

"Alright." He laughed softly, "I do wish you would quit those.. but that's another matter entirely More wine for me." John finished the rest of the glass, smiling at the empty cup before looking up at the suddenly quiet Sherlock. John could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks as he watched how the other removed the ice-cream. He diverted his eyes quickly, clearing his throat before shifting in his seat. He looked at the empty bottle, now knowing he had nothing to distract himself with so looked at the table.

"You got awfully quiet." Sherlock observed, nibbling at the strawberry. "Something wrong?" he asked with a smirk, watching John's discomfort with great satisfaction. It looked that he still got it, that was good. No good in getting rusty, as seduction was often the easiest way how to get cooperation.

"Just enjoying my wine Nothing wrong at all." He lied, smiling slightly, glancing at the other briefly before looking out the window. Anywhere except Sherlock and that infernally attractive fruit that he was growing stupidly envious of. "You've gone quiet yourself."

"I like listening to your voice." he toyed, his own voice deep and low. Sherlock finally finished off the strawberry, reaching to get the almost last one. "You want one? There are two left." he shuffled the bowl closer to John, "It's just that you watched the one I was eating, and you looked quite.. hungry. Here. Have this one."

"No thanks.." John managed to say before clearing his throat again. In all fairness he much preffered to watch Sherlock eat them. "I'm f-fine. Thanks though." He smiled gently at him, his blush obvious on his face. He swore the other was just messing with him. Not that he would complain.

"If you are sure." Sherlock shrugged, plopping the one he had been holding in between his lip. He sucked it in, look of complete delight on his face. He moaned silently as he chewed the treat. "I _love_ strawberries." he exclaimed wickedly when he finished the one off.

"I can uh..I can tell." John nodded, glancing daringly at the other, which he in turn regretted. Was he really getting turned on by this? John decided he was insane. "Y'know, with your strawberry icecream and stuff."

Sherlock nodded in agreement. "Though chocolate ice-cream with strawberries is better. Much, much better, don't you think?" he smirked and reached for the last one, circling it briefly in between his fingers. "You sure you don't want it? You were giving it weird looks.."

"I've tried strawberries in normal chocolate but otherwise I wouldn't kn-know. You go ahead. You seem to be /really/ enjoying them." His blush had spread to his ears now he was sure Sherlock was just teasing him. It was taking everything he had to not drag him down ontop the table and do him right here right now. "I wasn't giving anything weird looks"

"No you weren't." Sherlock agreed, "You still are. I would normally refuse to share straight ahead, but since it's you, I _could _make an exception." he smirked as he pressed the strawberry into his mouth. Sherlock leaned over the table to touch his lips against John's, waiting for the older to open up.

John listened and shook his head with a gentle laugh in disbelief of the other. He smiled, bringing his lips to Sherlock's, taking half of the strawberry. John sat back normally in his seat, swallowing the damn fruit. "We need to go home. Now."

"Oh?" Sherlock cocked his eyebrow, leaning back in his seat as well. He folded his arms over his chest and watched John arrogantly. "I am quite enjoying myself here. I _just_ now wanted to order myself spaghetti to eat."

"Just _now_?" Sherlock was really messing with his patience. If it meant he could spend more time with the other though.. "Fine. Just no more funny business. " he smiled slightly, "I'm gonna need some more wine anyways."

"'Funny business'?" Sherlock raised his eyebrows questioningly. "I am sure I don't know what you are talking about. What is there funny about eating spaghetti anyway? Though I quite like it when I just pick one, you know.." he mimicked picking up a fork and raising it to his mouth, "And suck it in."

"I'm sure you do." He spoke, raising his eyebrows for a second with a smile. "You know exactly what I'm speaking about, Sherlock." John couldn't help but laugh gently. "You suck away my friend."

The younger grinned. "I am sure it can wait, though." he allowed with a smirk. "Come one, let's go back into the flat, I owe you one explanation, don't I?" Sherlock stood up, leaning over to steal one of the roses from the vase.

"You do, yeah." John laughed slightly, standing up and putting his jacket back on. _Thank God. I didn't think I could have lasted another second._

"Though if you wanted to get a bit more wine, it's fine by me." Sherlock teased as he quickly moved to find Angelo, mentally bracing himself for another horrible conversation about Sherlock paying, when the owner didn't want him to.

"Nope nope. Best to stay sober, especially when dealing with my sister tommorow." John followed, glad to be going back.

"Very well." the younger grinned, "Wait for me out, please." he nodded towards the door, scratching at his chin as he saw Angelo bouncing towards him. Beaming and grinning. No doubt happy that Sherlock liked his flowers enough to steal one.

"Alright. Don't be long." He smiled gently, noddinh before stepping out into the colder night and zipped his jacket up. He just couldn't wait to get back.  
Sherlock quickly got done with the chat with Angelo and followed into the night, the rose hanging limply from his fingers. He quickly found John and gave him a grin, sliding his hand into the older man's palm.

John smiled, holding onto Sherlock's slimmer hand, grasping onto it comfortably. He was stupid for thinking so, but he thought it was the perfect fit. "Everything ok?" He asked, looking up at him.

"Angelo is having a crying fit right about now." Sherlock rolled his eyes. He leaned against John's side, relishing in the fact that he _could_ be all physical with the male. "Aside from that? Everything fine." the younger grinned.

John's cheeks flushed hot against the cold air, just so glad for the contact. "Good. I'm glad everything's fine." He smiled, resting his head against the other. "Why's he crying?"

"He is a bit.. too overwhelmed. Doesn't like it when I pay." he shrugged. "Do you want to go by feet, or should I call a cab?" Sherlock asked with a grin.

"We're not too far from the flat. We could walk but I'd like the get there quicker." He grinned, running his thumb over the back of Sherlock's hand.

"Don't tell me you are eager to see how would I kill you, had I wanted to." Sherlock smirked, tightening his fingers around John's. "Don't worry. Thirteen hours till you need to leave." he added with a look at the large tower-clock, visible from the street.

"I am honestly curious to see how you would do it." John smiled, looking at their hands. "But we could go on a walk if you want. London looks great at night with the lights." John looked at the clock also, smiling. "13 hours.." He sighed slightly.

"Well then, let's go back into the flat." the younger grinned, starting to tug the older after himself and towards the Baker Street. He quickly started into the road, quickening into a light jog to cross safely. "I am quite looking forwards myself." he smirked wickedly.

John had to jog slightly to catch up with Sherlock's strides but managed to speed up his walking to match the other. "Any spoilers?" He asked hopefully, looking at him with a grin.

"Spoilers? Uh." Sherlock thought for a moment. "He dies. The doctor." the younger smirked, "Gets shot by his wife at Lake Silentio in Utah." he turned to look at John, giving him a cheeky grin.

John laughed, looking at Sherlock like he was crazy. "Doctor Who again? Alright alright. Don't tell me then."

"What else do you want spoilers for? I don't watch much tv. Aside from those Gregory made me watch with him." the younger shrugged, leading them trough narrow, dark isles towards the flat.

"For how you would kill me, duh." John grinned, nudging him playfully. "I don't watch much telly either. Some medical dramas. Action movies. None of the rom-com rubbish."

"'Rom-com'?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow at him, confused. "What is that supposed to mean?" he frowned in disdain, not liking that he didn't know something.

"Rom-com." John said plainly, "You know.. Romantic Comedy. Rom-antic. Com-edy. You never heard that before?" He laughed gently, finding that fact amusing. "Chick flicks and stuff."

"I don't have a habit of using urban phraseology." Sherlock rolled his eyes. He reached into his pocket for his knees, quickly unlocking the door to 221 Baker Street.

"Whatever trevor." John laughed, the effects of the wine getting to him lightly. "Why Baker Street?" He asked, curious.

"I knew the landlady." he shrugged. "And I am not even asking what the 'trevor' meant in that sentence." he rolled his eyes, running up the stairs quickly, tugging the older male behind himself.

"Ah right." John laughed at Sherlock's comment, following the man quickly up the stairs. He just wanted to rip the other guy's clothes off so badly. If they had stayed and had to endure Sherlock sucking away at the pasta.. he would have exploded.

Sherlock quickly shed off his coat and scarf, laying the red rose onto the kitchen table. He padded into the living room, pushing John to sit down on the couch. "Are you sure you want me to show you?" he asked wickedly.

"Oh god yes." John smiled as he was pushed down to sit on the couch. He looked up at him, grinning. "Don't kill me though."

The younger just smirked and swiftly tugged John's trousers and pants to his knees. He leaned his palms onto the man's thighs and leaned up to press his lips to John's.

John blushed, having not expected that and resisted the urge to pull Sherlock down with him. He kissed the other desperatley, before pulling away to let him continue with what he was doing.

Sherlock licked his lips and nuzzled his chin into John's thigh, giving his slowly hardening length teasing lick. He blew a mouthful of hot air over the head, looking up at the older trough his lashes.

John bit his lip to stop the long chain of proffanities escaping his mouth. He shivered when he felt Sherlock's hot tounge, supressing a moan. John closed his eyes, unable to look at the other as if Sherlock's face would be the trigger for him to drag him to the bedroom by his curls.

"Open your eyes, John." Sherlock whispered and leaned to suck the head of his member into his mouth. He pressed his tongue against the slit, fingers ghosting over the heated skin of John's thighs.

"Oh fuck.." He groaned as he felt the other's warm wet lips close around him. John did as he was told to by Sherlock and opened his eyes. His skin flushed hot and he tried to contain the noises coming from his mouth.

Sherlock quickly sat up a pace of bobbing his head up and down, taking the older as deep into himself as he could without having to battle his gagging reflex just yet. He closed his eyes himself, nails lightly clawing into John's legs, as he concentrated purely at the task at hand.

John moaned again, feeling completely undone by the other. He couldn't help but buck his hips forwards. "Sherlock.." He breathed, a moan caught at the back of his throat. If he was trying to distract him in order to kill him, he was doing a very good job.

The younger kept still for few seconds as John thrust up into his throat, forcing himself not to gag at the intrusion. When he was confident he would be fine, he started moving up and down again, holding John's hips down with his palms. Sherlock pressed as deep as he could, the light hair on John's skin brushing over his jaw.

John moaned, the hot wet feeling of Sherlock's mouth completely engulfing him. He needed the friction, he needed it desperatley as he fought a losing battle with Sherlock's palms. "F-fuck...fuck..Sherlock.." John moaned, knowing he was close, closing his eyes.

Sherlock smirked, the man was delightfully easy. That was fun. He could tease him. He leaned back, until only the tip was between his lips, lapping his tongue over the heated flash.

John moaned again, gasping from the sudden loss of heat from the length but felt like he was going insane as he felt the other's tounge over his tip. He threw his head back against the sofa, whimpering slightly at the lack of contact. "Sherlock.." he groaned, running his hand through his curly hair.

The younger leaned his head sideways, pressing soft kisses along the length. He sucked on the side, before moving up to deep-throat him again. Up and down and again, Sherlock reached into his back pocket.

"F-fuck.." John just couldn't take it anymore, the teasing was far too much. He felt the heat rise up and he came, moaning loudly, tugging on Sherlock's hair.

Sherlock leaned away to couch the liquid out of his throat, as he smirked. He reached to press the dull side of his pocket knife over the vain on John's thigh. "Game over." he whispered, realizing only after that he had said the exact same words to Jim previously. Talk about irony. "You are dead. Enjoyed it?" Sherlock reached to tug John's jeans up to their place.

He nodded, "I-I'd die happy atleast." John laughed breathlessly, tugging his jeans back up. "I'm dead.." He smiled, looking at him playfully. "You win"


	36. Countdown

**Title: Of Rats and Men**

**Chapter: Countdown**

**Place: London**

**Characters: John Watson; Sherlock Holmes**

**Warnings: nothing...probably..**

* * *

"I always win." Sherlock said seriously, straightening up. "Going to feed my pets. Make a tea?" he asked, giving John as smile. He wanted to spend as much time with the older as possible. For the last time. He just didn't know how, just yet. Watch a movie? Go for a walk?

"Sure. Just need a second." John smiled, closing his eyes gently, his world still spinning. After a minute he got up and went to the kettle, filling it with water and boiling it.

Sherlock sat down with his legs crossed, reaching to get his two remaining rats out of the cage. He set them both on his lap, gazing at them sadly. He missed the third. He had gotten quite used to them. Careful not to get bitten, he fed them small pieces of meat, grinning when he watched their tiny teeth work on it.

John poured the hot water into the mugs, stirring the tea bag round and then moved to the fridge, getting the milk and putting the appropriate amount into the drink, stirring once more. He smiled gently, looking around at the experiments in the room with a slight fondeness. He'd miss it. He hadn't been here long at all but it already felt like home. More so than the university.

"So what are we going to do?" Sherlock bounced back into the kitchen, one of the rats comfortably sitting in his hair. He grinned at John, resisting the urge to just snuggle into the older.

"Right now? Drink tea." John grinned, looking at the rats in the other's hair; it was completley bizarre. The rats that could easily kill a grown man with one bite were just resting away in Sherlock's curls. He did look absolutley brilliant with that smile. He couldn't go near him with those bloody rodents however. "I don't know what else after. Any ideas? Last night on Earth, what would you do?" John asked, moving into the living room and placing the mugs down.

"Last day on Earth? Kill Anderson." Sherlock shrugged and padded after John, sitting down onto the couch. "To be honest, though, I don't really care." he added, _as long as it's with you_. He didn't say the second part out loud, only reached to get his tea, craddling the mug in his palms.

John laughed at Sherlock's answer and sat next to him, smiling gently. "Good choice. If we were all gonna die anyway you might as well get the satisfaction of killing Anderson yourself." Great. Now /he/ sounded like the psychopath. He took a sip of the hot tea and sighed happily.

"Not sure if I would." he shrugged again, taking a sip of the slowly cooling tea. It was blissfully delicious. "I still want the only person I kill to be Jim." Sherlock murmured thoughtfully. He wondered if he will still think that way in few days; Lestrade had said something. He had said that 'John made him a better person', so wouldn't forgetting John make him be the same person as before? Cold. Heartless. Cruel.

"I'll bloody well kill him. He's the most annoying twat I've ever met. Excluding my sister of course." John rolled his eyes, relaxing backwards into the sofa.

"Go for it." the younger mumbled a bit absently, lost in his thoughts as he stared into the mug. The tea was still warm enough to feel pleasant against his palms, and creating fascinating pictures when Sherlock's fingers shook. Oh, that was right. Cold turkey. But he hadn't wanted to be intoxicated today. Not with John being in the flat for the last time.

"You alright..?" John asked, resting his head gently on Sherlock's shoulder. The younger had more warmth than the tea could ever have, despite his apparent coldness.

"Perfectly all right." Sherlock turned to give him a grin, leaning his own head against the top of John's. That was comfortable. Mostly due to the fact that he liked being close to him.

John laughed softly, grinning. "Good good." He put his hand on Sherlock's thigh, drawing shapes with his finger. "Tea good?"

The younger shivered at the light touch. "Tea brilliant." he answered truthfully, taking a huge gulp as if to prove it. "You make the best tea ever. And coffee. And pancakes. Though I can't say the same about cakes."

"At least I can do something right. Could lay a trap for your brother with one of my cakes. I must have put in too much salt." He laughed again, smiling. "Glad you like the tea. Careful not to burn yourself.."

"It's almost cold. I am not getting burnt by cold tea, John." Sherlock rolled his eyes, but couldn't quite help that he was smiling stupidly from ear to ear. John just had that effect on him.

"Mine's still hot. I just must be special." John laughed, closing his eyes happily. "So special I can't make cake."

"Well, you are hot yourself. It's only fair." the younger smirked, poking the man's side. "You burnt it. We could have sent it to Jim. That would be oddly apropos."

"Well, that I can't deny." He ran a hand through his blonde hair with mock vanity, grinning. "You're not too shabby yourself. I'm sure Jim would have bloody eaten it too. The weirdo."

"That reminds me.." Sherlock muttered and reached into his jeans, fishing out his cellphone. He quickly tapped a message to Jim, giving John an apologetic grin.

**Heard a quote; made me think of you. Want to hear it? :) -SH**

John looked at the phone curiously but smiled, drawing a smiley face on Sherlock's thigh with his finger absently.

**Oh, do tell xx;) -OB**

**'You would think that killing people would make them like you; but it doesn't. It just makes them death'. -SH**

Sherlock smirked as he sent that, wondering what would Jim have to say. He pocketed the cellphone, though, deciding that it could wait, and raised his eyes to look at John. "So what do you want to do?"

John sipped his tea, placing it down onto the side before answering. "I haven't a clue. Last night with the most brilliant man on the planet..What to do?" He tapped his chin, thinking.

"I see you managed to summarize my dilemma quite nicely." Sherlock grinned brightly up at John. "We had a date, I gave you a blow; the only cliché left is watching a movie. Want to watch a movie?"

John laughed, resting his head into Sherlock's chest. "Sure. Why not? Might as well.." He tapped Sherlock's nose playfully, smiling. "Got any movies?"  
"Probably not." he shrugged. "But I _do_ have internet connection. Anything you want to watch?"

"Not in particular. How about you? Any suggestions?" John smiled, cuddling up to Sherlock.

"Wouldn't watch it anyway." the younger sighed, keeping his eyes closed as he enjoyed John's closeness. He breathed in his scent, letting it calm him.

John put his arms around Sherlock's torso and rested his head more comfortably against the other and closed his eyes. "You're so warm.."

Sherlock hummed thoughtfully, from his point John felt almost burning warm against him. Not that he was complaining, no. He yawned and leaned against the back of the couch, closing his eyes.

"Don't fall asleep now." John muttered, feeling tired himself. "Movie. Needs picking. Nothing depressing or morbid or cheesey or medical or murder related." He tried to think but just felt intoxicated by the other's scent.

"Or we can just skip the movie and shag. Then sleep. Then you leave." Sherlock mumbled sleepily, refusing to open his eyes just yet. "Don't want to see movie. Movies are stupid. Movies have happy-ends and happy-ends are ridiculous."

"Not all movies have happy endings. Sweeney Todd, Romeo and Juliet." John smiled gently. "I don't mind whatever we do, as long as I'm with you."

"You are being cheesy, John." Sherlock pointed out, hiding the fact that he had thought exactly the same only few minutes ago. He grinned. "So you want to watch a movie with sad ending? Should I go buy chocolate?"

"Mm." John hummed in agreement. "The saddest. I like sad movies. Makes me realise how little my problems seem." He smiled, taking the other's hand in his own. "I'm very cheesy"

"Not sure if I know any really sad one." Sherlock shrugged. His fingers danced over the warm skin of John's hand, keeping his eyes closed in content. "Keep being cheesy. It's fun."

"Titanic...? I guess it's not _really_ sad.." At the thought of another film, John laughed. "Not Brokeback Mountain." Ironic. 'I wish I could quit you.' John opened his eyes to look up gently at the other. 'True enough.' "I don't know very many sad movies. There's that one about the dead dog but I don't find it sad. Of Mice and Men is sad at the end.." He tried to think but just seemed distracted by Sherlock.

"Just pick something up, I don't really care." Sherlock waved it off. Right now, he felt as if his whole life was a huge joke, sad from morning to the next one. No reason in adding salt into the wounds. "Definitely not Brokeback Mountain." he added, just to be sure.

"Dracula." John said, smiling and deciding. "The old one." He snuggled up close to him. "Jim played Van Helsing in a drama preformance once." John yawned slightly, running his finger up the other's arm. "Chocolate would be good. Soppy. Like me." He laughed softly. "You're kinda soppy."

"I still have the chocolate I bought when I thought Richard will die." the younger shrugged. "Hope you don't mind it's a bit.. melted.. and then melted again." he hopped down from the sofa and padded into the bedroom, quickly searching for the bar. He found it in a pocket of his black jeans, handing it over to John when he returned to the living room.

"Thanks." He smiled appreciativley but set it on the side. "I'm not particularly hungry but y'know , just being cheesy." John laughed gently, taking Sherlock's hand and tugged him back to the sofa with him, bringing his lips to the other's for a kiss.

Sherlock happily slid flush next to him and sneaked his arms around John's neck. He parted his lips into the kiss, humming in content when he felt John so close to him. That was honestly bliss. He would miss the way John's body seemed to fit next to him, so perfect, so warm. The younger sighed over John's lips.

John ran his hand through Sherlock's hair gently, each finger lacing through a curl. His other hand went to Sherlock's chest, John loved the way he could feel the other's heart pound away under the layers of shirt and skin. He smiled into the kiss, enjoying Sherlock's hidden warmth.

The younger felt his heart start up a faster pace, just from feeling John place his hand over it. He felt his oxygen getting a bit low, making him lightheaded, but refused to pull away just yet. He only tightened his arms around the man's neck, bringing him closer as much as that was still possible.

John's smile widened at the quickening of Sherlock's heartbeat, reminding him that they were both there and both very much alive. He could practically feel it against his own body, being so close to Sherlock. John was the one to break the kiss for a small breath of air, feeling as if he was going to faint otherwise. He quickly returned his lips to Sherlock's, missing him immediately.

Sherlock gasped for breath as well in the short moment, eyes widening in pleasant surprise when John pressed back to him almost instantly. Oh John was fun. Sherlock pressed his own palm over John's heart as well, nails dragging over the man's chest.

John shivered at the feeling of Sherlock's nails, kissing him more greedily and desperately. He moved his hand from Sherlock's hair and started to palm his crotch instead. He pulled his lips away again to breathe, returning them once more. He was just so intoxicated by the other it was unreal, like he was on a drug.

The younger couldn't help the silent moan from escaping his mouth as he felt a tremble run trough his spine. He arched his back, desperate for more contact; it had been hell to watch John come undone so brilliant, so delicious, without getting anything himself.

John pulled away from the kiss, panting for air as he moved his hands off Sherlock to undo his trousers, hands fumbling from the adrenaline. He slid the trousers down, moving down with them, running kisses on Sherlock's clothed half hard-on with a smile. He wanted nothing more than to tease Sherlock even more than what he had done.

Sherlock whimpered, clutching his fingers into John's hair almost painfully. "John.." he whined, eyes almost closed as he tried to calm down at least a bit. His breath was almost pathetically hurried already, skin of his face flushed.

John laughed softly, nuzzling his nose against the other's hidden member still before taking it in his hand without touching the flesh. "Yes Sherlock..?" John asked playfully, looking up at the flushed man.

"Can we maybe relocate a bit?" he raised his eyes to look up at John hopefully, tugging at the man's arm. Sherlock moved John's hand away from his crotch, needing to be able to think at least a bit clearly.  
"Hmm? But I'm fine right here. I just started to get comfortable." John grinned up at him, moving his hand back to it's place.

"You are going to leave sooner or later anyway." Sherlock commented rudely, giving the man a glare.

"Someone's touchy." John grinned, kissing Sherlock's lips once more before moving away, taking the younger's hand to help him up. He wrapped his arms around Sherlock's waist, kissing him desperately as he pulled them in the direction of the bedroom, wanting to be as close to the other as possible.

Sherlock leaned heavily into the older, letting himself be tugged as he moved his lips against John's. He pulled his trousers back on, though, as not to stumble and fall down.

John pushed himself against the other, grinding his hips slightly against Sherlock's as they got into the bedroom, pushing him down onto the bed and straddled him, running kisses down Sherlock's neck, undoing his shirt.

"Much better." Sherlock smirked smugly, bucking his hips up to brush against John's groin. He raised his arms to get a hold of the headboard, back arching from the covers at the position.

John let out a small gasp at the contact with his groin, pulling Sherlock up a bit to get the man's shirt off and simply pulled his own off and over his head, pinning him back down and kissing him strongly, running his hands down Sherlock's flushed chest before stopping at his trouser line and quickly removed the offending clothing. He grinded against the other with a slight moan, kissing him again.

Sherlock tightened his fingers around the headboard. He wondered if John would agree to play a bit, but wasn't in his right wits to ask. He screwed his eyes shut and bucked his hips up as much as he could, his mind dazed with the suppressed energy that was running trough him.

He moved his hands to Sherlock's chest again, drawing patterns on his flushed skin with the tips of his fingers. John wasn't going to rush this at all. He pressed his lips to Sherlock's neck, "Definitely much better.." He hummed.

"Can I have a last wish?" Sherlock titled his head to look up at John, grinning softly. He arched his chest again, the fleeting touch of John's fingers almost tickling.

"I don't see why not.." John smiled, looking at him with a gentle laugh. "Your wish is my command." He ran a hand through the other's hair gently.

Sherlock smirked wickedly, nodding his head towards the drawers next to the bed, "There should be handcuffs in." he said simply, looking up at John hopefully.

"Handcuffs?" John smiled widely, laughing. "Alright." He went into the drawer and pulled out the handcuffs, taking them into his hands. "You want me to cuff you to the bed? You've got a key in the drawer too, right?"

"Might be there somewhere." Sherlock shrugged. "I can get out of those in about two seconds. It's boring." he complained half-heartedly. "Stole those from a police-guy, before you ask."

"Why d'you steal them?" He asked as he handcuffed Sherlock's wrists to the headboard. "You really are as submissive as you can be." John laughed, kissing him.

"That guy was annoying." Sherlock shrugged. "And he didn't even notice when I did so." he smirked, tryingly pulling at the cuffs by a habit. Not that he wanted to get out, of course. "Being submissive gives me to complete and utter attention of the other person. Of course I like it."

John laughed, running the kisses down Sherlock's chest. "Understandable." He commented, removing the other's underwear.

"Which part?" he asked cheekily, raising a bit on his feet to help John tug his pants down. Sherlock kept his eyes closed, enjoying that when not using his sight, his skin was more sensitive to John's fingers and lips.

John ran his fingers lightly along the man's thigh before loosely clutching the base of Sherlock's shaft before running his tounge shyly around the tip. He was glad Sherlock had his eyes closed as he could feel his cheeks burning.

Sherlock shivered at the almost teasing touch, forcing himself to stay relaxed, though. "You.. you didn't answer my question, though.." he said silently, smile ghosting over his lips.

"On both accounts." John smiled, laughing slightly before taking him into his mouth. He wasn't quite sure but copied the actions that made him go crazy before, moving down and taking him as far as he could, running his fingers up his thigh still.

The younger let out a breathy moan, arching his back from the bed. "Careful.. it's very easy.. to hurt yourself like this.." he muttered silently, tightening his fingers around the cuffs to stay at least a bit composed, as not to thrust up into the man's mouth.

"I'll be ok. It's you who should be careful." He laughed gently when he had come back up. John repeated the actions with a smile. He could feel the throbbing heat between his lips and it felt amazing.

"There's something.. called.. gagging reflex.. John." the younger rolled his eyes. He forced himself to open his eyes and look down at the older, pupils dilating at the sight.

"I'm aware, Sherlock. But as I found out when I was younger..Very hard to happen." John smiled, closing his eyes and taking him again, deeper than before. Having Sherlock's eyes on him however made him blush more.

"Wouldn't think you to be someone who tried before.." Sherlock muttered silently, finding it quite difficult not to moan. He curled his fingers around the cold steel, biting onto his lower lip.

"Being emos..me and Rich thought it'd be cool to be bulimic. I couldn't." He laughed gently and took Sherlock to the base with a smirk, humming to send vibrations upwards.

The younger muffled a half-scream by biting into his skin again, tasting blood on his tongue. "You.. you are.. brilliant.." he managed to pant up, tossing on the bed under John's ministration.

John just loved Sherlock's reaction, it was the most arousing thing he had ever seen. He grazed his teeth gently against his shaft on the way up but slammed back to the base again, repeating that action with a gentle moan.

Sherlock cried out again, feeling his mind shutting down at the sensation of utter warmth and bliss coursing trough him. He swallowed nervously, raising a bit to look down at John, "..Enough.." he breathed trough his pants, "Don't want.. it to.. end just yet.."

John looked up at him and took his mouth away, wiping off the saliva from the side of his mouth with the back of his hand. His erection was painful against his trousers so he quickly took them off along with his underwear and sighed gratefully at the newfound freedom. "Have you got lubricant..?" He asked, catching his breath a bit still.

"In the drawer." Sherlock instructed, grinning in anticipation as he watched the older get rid of his trousers. He _liked_ John without his clothes. The man was hot. He remained laying on the bed, eyes following John, quite relieved that he was able to think clearly once again.

"Should have seen this before." He laughed slightly, picking up the small bottle. John opened the lid and tilted the cool liquid onto his palm, coating his erection and gave a gentle sigh from the coolness. He put it onto his fingers and entered one carefully into Sherlock, moving the finger around to make sure the initial entry wouldn't be too painful. Last thing he wanted was Sherlock in more pain than before.

Sherlock sighed, breath hitching in his throat at the teasingly light touch. "You do realize.." he murmured, eyes closed once again, "That we already had sex twice, so you being careful about it _now_ is quite ridiculous?" he raised his eyebrows in amusement, but had to admit that it was quite endearing of John.

"I know.." John smiled, "It's quite ridiculous. But I wanna make this drag out for as long as possible." He entered a second lube-coated finger, moving both around. "Besides, I like to see you squirm." He laughed softly.

"Making a good job on that one." Sherlock chuckled silently, raising his hips lightly in desperate move to get more of the contact. "Though right now.. I would quite like it.. if you hurried the fuck up."

"Alright then." He laughed, removing his fingers. John didn't think he could fight the urge anyways. He shifted his position and entered him, a groan escaping his lips immediatley. Third time but he knew he could never get used to such an amazing tight feeling. Completely different to a girl, Sherlock's body just seemed to want to reject the intrusion which made it even more so amazing.

"Much.. better." Sherlock moaned, back arching from the bed. He raised his long legs and circled those around John's middle, trying to urge the older to move closer, deeper. He closed his eyes, letting out a sound similar to a mewl as sparks of pleasure shook trough him.

With a breathy groan, John entered him fully. The feeling was extroridinary but his body demanded more and he grinded his hips against the other's at first before starting moving. He held onto Sherlock's shoulders, his arms shaking.

Sherlock hummed in agreement at the action, raising his hips to offer John a better angle. He tugged helplessly at his bounds, the feeling of being at John's mercy doing nothing to calm him as he moaned, tossing on the bed.

John's eyes flickered at the handcuff's, grinning as he let out a half-laugh half-moan as he began to thrust harder but not faster. Last time he had rushed everything in a desperate attempt for friction but now he wanted to remember every feeling, every last movement. Like a smoker with their last cigarette before going cold-turkey. He kissed the other strongly, feeling completely drunk on Sherlock.

The younger pressed up back against him with the same force, desperate to feel John against him. He thrust his hips against every John's move, eyes almost rolling into the back of his head at the sensation. Sherlock parted his lips, moaning into their shared breath, deliciously aware of every move John made.

He immediatley picked up the pace, kissing him as desperatley and as hungrily as a starving man was for his next meal. When John felt the other move vertically up and down his shaft on his own accord he moaned, thrusting up when the younger came down. The pleasure he felt was intense, nearly unbearable. John could feel Sherlock's heavy breath against his own whenever he happened to pull away to breathe, which only drove him crazier. He knew he was close when his body went on auto-pilot, slamming hard into the other.

Sherlock stopped trying to be silent, crying desperately out every time he felt John slam into him, trigger the pleasure somewhere deep inside of his body. He tried keeping his eyes open, wanting to see the older, but couldn't. He arched his back from the bed, the cuffs cutting into the flesh of his wrists, creating the delicious mixture of burning pain and sparkling pleasure. "_Please.._" he breathed throatily, feeling himself almost there, just a bit more.

He held tightly onto Sherlock's hips, his hands shaking as he threw his head back. Removing one hand, he started to jerk the other off strongly in time with the thrusts. "Oh god.." He groaned, feeling so close. It wasn't long at all before he came loud and hard. His whole body shook from the intense release as he collapsed ontop of the other, his searched for breath, feeling his legs completely numb.

The younger came just a second after him, his whole mind covered with white mist. He awakened from the daze when sharp pain shot trough him and blinked owlishly to try and find the source. Sherlock chuckled lightly when he did, nudging John with his knee to get the older to move down next to him, instead of pressing his weigh onto the bandaged bullet wound on his side.

When he could think straight again, John opened his eyes. He smiled widely at the other, withdrawing from him and moved to the side, lying next to him. He brought his lips to Sherlock's flushed forehead and kissed him gently. "Want..want me to undo the handcuffs..?" He asked, catching his breath still with a gentle laugh. All he could feel was a glowing warmth of content.

"Don't really care." Sherlock smiled, closing his eyes again. "Just don't lay on me. Not very comfortable right now." he said lazily, his smile only widening. "And I would very much like for you to kiss me." he mused outwardly, keeping flush against the older even with his arms raised above his head.

"Mm." John hummed in agreement. "Lucky for you, I want the same thing." His voice rich with a smile as he kissed the other, not a strongly as before but with the same - if not more - meaning. He ran his finger down Sherlock's flushed chest before pulling away to get the key and undo Sherlock's bonds. "And I would very much like a cuddle right now. I know, cheesey." He laughed softly, freeing the other's arms and set the cuffs and key on the side. John kissed him again, making sure not to lean too close to his shoulder before putting his arms around the other's torso, feeling the other's pulse through the flushed skin. Very much alive.

Sherlock hummed in agreement, pressing against John as much as he could without hurting himself. He relaxed in the man's arms, his own resting lightly on John's side and second in between their bodies. "I believe that is the best idea you have had in quite a while." he grinned widely, feeling John's chest move against him with every breath he took.

"I'm full of good ideas. I'm the ideas guy. Well, sometimes." John grinned, resting his head against the other's. He took the time just to look at Sherlock's practically beautiful features before kissing him and closing his eyes. All the energy had been drained out from him yet he knew if he slept now, morning would come sooner and so would leaving. He yawned gently after trying to surpress it.

"Sleep." Sherlock advised, reaching his hand from John's side to run his fingers trough John's hair. He massaged the man's scalp, trying to soothe him into dreams as he himself yawned silently.

John sighed happily, looking at him with a smile before shutting his eyes. Not having to be told twice, he curled up closer to the other. "I love you.." he breathed, taking his hand in his own before drifting off quickly to sleep, Sherlock's breathing acting as a soothing metronome.

"And I you.." the younger sighed sadly, watching their entwined hands. For the last time. He moved his eyes back up to John's face, studying the subtle lines under the man's eyes. For the last time. Sherlock forced his eyes shut, trapping any tears that would want to escape onto his cheeks, and drifted off to sleep as well.


	37. Farewell and Forever Gone

**Title: Of Rats and Men**

**Chapter: Farewell and Forever Gone**

**Place: London**

**Characters: John Watson; Sherlock Holmes; Gregory Lestrade**

**Warnings: it's the End**

* * *

John had never felt so at peace in his whole life, if he'd been shot there and then he would have died a happy man. His heart warmed to a roaring cozy fire when he heard Sherlock's response before drifting off into the darkness of dreamless sleep. The morning came by unnoticed at first, the man still holding onto the other loosely in his sleep.

Sherlock woke up slowly when he felt the first sun rays touch his skin. He shot them a glare - normally he would love to lay for few minutes, bathing in the sun, but right now, the coming morning signalled something far, far darker than he would like. He wondered if he should wake John up, as the older would hate being late, but decided that right now he just couldn't talk to him without breaking down. He settled back into the blanket, closing his eyes in perfected pretence of sleeping, nudging the older in 'unintentional' move.

With the nudge, John was claimed back from his sleep and stirred slightly. His mind was still in the drowzy ignorance of dream until the stark reality of the morning hit him hard like a slap. John's heart sank as he realised what the events of the day would be and sighed slightly, not moving and and looked at the apparently sleeping Sherlock next to him. "Good mornin'.." He whispered, thinking the other couldn't hear. John ran a hand gently through the other's messy curls; he would miss them so much. "I'm sorry, Sherlock."

He almost gave a sob a that, but caught himself. He had his body in complete control, it shouldn't be so difficult not to move closer. But it was. It took Sherlock all of the self-control he had not to buck his head up against John's hand, but he managed. He stayed unmoving, regulating his breathing and heart-beat to stay calm, even, asleep.

He played with the other's hair softly, hoping not to wake him up. "I've been nothing but a twat to you." He watched Sherlock's features with a sad smile. "I..I used to think..I didn't know how anyone could ever put up with you. You..drove me insane with all your carryings on but.. After all the stuff that's happened in a short time that all seems so little. To be honest..I've never had this much fun." He could feel the tears forming and cursed himself for crying. He just felt glad that Sherlock couldn't hear him. "A-and now..I have no idea how to say goodbye. I just want to be with you..just stay like this forever but I can't..we can't a-and.." He caught himself, closing his eyes and hiding his face in Sherlock's side. "I'm sorry"

Sherlock sighed and moved his arms to rest them around John. He kept his eyes closed and breath even, not smiling and not frowning either. "Just run.. run you clever boy.." he murmured, for a moment tightening his arms around him before letting go. "Stay alive, don't write. Keep in touch with Gregory."

John closed his eyes tighter, hoping that by somehow he could just stay forever right there with the younger on Baker Street. "Don't write...? I..you don't want to hear from me again? You don't want to keep in contact.. But I thought.." John cut himself off, he knew he sounded like a child. Did he mean anything he said last night..? Of course he did. When he felt Sherlock's warmth gone from him, he felt like he was a million miles away already.

"Come find me when you are back for good." Sherlock sighed. He turned around to face the other side of the room, curling under the blanket by hugging his knees close to his chest. He closed his eyes, just counting each and every shaky breath as he waited for John to leave.

Taking a second to compose himself, John nodded. "I will." He pulled himself out of bed, picking his clothes up and got a shower before getting changed into a new set of clothes. "I'll see you later then..yeah? Don't get into too much trouble." He stood at the foot of the bed, watching the lump under the blanket.

Sherlock didn't say anything at that, because of course he can't promise no to get into trouble. The Game will start in five years. That's too much trouble even _thinking_ about it. And John didn't have the right to tell him anything about staying out of trouble or safe; he was going into a warzone.

"Alright then. I'll see you." John nodded with a shy smile before heading out of the room. He went to his own room to get his bag, dragging his feet. He sighed. Wasn't even gonna get a goodbye.. He took one last look around before heading out of the flat for good.

The younger waited till he heard the door close, before he let himself tear up. Calming down after five minutes, he messaged Gregory and moved to go trough the flat, making sure there was nothing left of John. Then he proceeded to delete every message sent between himself and the male, as well as few of those just mentioning him. Sherlock laid down on the sofa, palms propped under his chin as he waited for Gregory to come.

* * *

John took a second to calm down and breathe, his body shaking as he stood against the wall. He took the tube from Baker Street station to King's Cross, getting on a train to Suffolk. When he sat down, he looked through his phone, reading through messages and called his dad to let him know he was coming and called Harry to make sure she'd be home but he doubted it anyway.

* * *

When Greg entered the flat, he found Sherlock locked in his mind palace and sighed. He sat down on the chair and waited for Sherlock to emerge to play his part.

It took the younger ten more minutes before he sat up, instantly spotting Lestrade on the couch. "Why hello there, Gregory. To what do I owe the pleasure?" he titled his head sideways, eyes cold and calculative.

"You wanted me to come and tell you few things." Greg narrowed his eyes. He pressed a finger to his lips to silence Sherlock when he saw him take a breath to speak up. "Just listen. You needed to delete few things. To stay safe." _I guess that's the truth at least from a part. _Greg grimaced, "And you had to delete a person as well, so I am to tell you about my school mate, so you don't get confused if you two ever meet."

* * *

John managed to get some sleep on the train, thankfully. 20 years army service. If he completed his tour he'd be into his fourties. He could imagine being that old. John woke when someone sat down next to him and he frowned. Would it be worth texting Sherlock? Greg? No.. It wouldn't do anyone any good.

* * *

Sherlock titled his head as he listened; had he deleted a part of his information? He trusted Gregory, and the fact that the older looked quite.. upset with the situation meant he hadn't agreed with the plan. Sherlock's idea, then. That meant he won't try to get the deleted facts back. He had to have a good reason to do so, after all.

"His name is John Hamish Watson; age twenty-three." Greg closed his eyes as he began to explain. "He was here to visit once with me. You two talked few times. He had an organisation trying to protect him by killing anyone who could be a threat to his life. Tried to kill you. You surely noticed few bullet marks on your body. Tried to kill Jim Moriarty, who had been disguising himself as John's friend under an ali-"

"Alias of Richard Brooks. I do remember that." Sherlock nodded. "Do continue on, though."

* * *

John rest his head against the seat as watched the trees go by. He couldn't sleep with so many strangers nearby and with a crying baby screeching away. Could he do this? On his own. He'd always been with someone. Home, Rich, Greg, Sherlock. Now..just John. Private Watson. He could do this. John looked at his phone again. He still had two hours.

* * *

After twenty minutes Greg stood up and left the flat, letting Sherlock think about whatever it was the boy needed to think about. He just couldn't bring himself to stay. He _did_ like him, really. Whatever it took. But trough those few months of the younger crushing after John, he had grown accustomed to Sherlock that was emotional. Almost sensitive, sometimes. He didn't think he could stand seeing the old Sherlock right now.

And the old Sherlock was all he was going to get.

* * *

**End.**


End file.
